


For Better or For Worse

by rareID



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Elsanna - Freeform, F/F, Gore, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Mild Language, PTSD, Polyamory, Slow Burn, Slower slow burn than trying to boil a full pot of water on the lowest setting, Violence, but no one looks for them so who cares, extreme language, healing process, just not a big thing, the other relationships aren't big things either, yes that's still going to be a thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2018-05-24 21:14:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 219,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6167038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rareID/pseuds/rareID
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anna used to be the leader of the Protector League. "The hero of the people," they'd called her, until she murdered thousands of people including her Elite teammates and never explained why. Now the new League leader, Blizzard, seeks Anna's help; but can the infamous villain do that without outing the secrets she's kept buried? (Unrelated Elsanna, minor)</p><p>In a world where nothing is as it seems, Anna struggles to balance her past and the future in a trying tragedy of life and death. She lost her will to care about others a long time ago, but in the League she may find a reason to trust once more, or she may have her last thread of belief ground into dust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Past that Shapes Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N** : Welcome to the first chaptered fiction I've done in two years. Unlike last time, I promise no such thing as an updating schedule. I will post images, sneak peeks and answer questions on my tumblr ([anonofthecentury](http://anonofthecentury.tumblr.com/)) on a semi-regular basis, but chapter updates can be anywhere from a couple days to a couple months. All I can promise is that I _will_ update, but a little patience may be required.
> 
> EDIT (Jan 11, 2018): The "Elsanna" tag in the relationship section has been removed due to it implying it will have a bigger role in the story than it actually will. It will still be present in the story but, like the other tagged relationships, it will be more of a background thing.

Four Years Ago

Five crisp, cheerful knocks echo in the quiet of the peaceful neighbourhood. The pattering of young feet from inside the suburban house follows, along with the indignant cry of the child's mother.

The door swings open, reveling a sixteen year old with a toothy grin and unruly red hair.

Anna smiles, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement. "So we meet again," she says, with a teasing bow.

"Oh shut up," Merida laughs, her Scottish accent almost too thick to understand. She pulls Anna into a bone crushing hug, leaving the older redhead winded.

"God," Anna wheezes, "have you been wrestling with freak'n giants?"

Elinor, stepping into the entryway from the kitchen, chuckles. "You're not far off," she says, with a knowing glint in her eyes.

Anna's chest swells with pride, and she grins. "She's going to follow in your footsteps, then?" she asks, backing out of Merida's embrace. "Beating up people who annoy you?"

The teenager turns to her mother, her throat fluttering with restrained laughter. "Do you actually?" she probes, teasing.

Elinor flushes, her cheeks turning a bright, rosy red. "Now that's enough of that," she says, with an awkward clearing of her throat. "Merida, dear," she adds, before the firecracker can respond, "why don't you go to the table and start your homework?"

"But mom!" Merida yelps, gesturing to Anna. "I hardly ever see her!"

Anna raises an eyebrow. "That's not how my memory recalls it."

"Nor mine," Elinor agrees. "Now go. I need to speak with Anna in private."

Merida narrows her eyes, but one unimpressed eyebrow from her mother makes the teenager mutter under her breath and scurry into the house. The moment the young woman is out of earshot, Elinor's face falls grim.

"Is it time?" she whispers.

Anna winces, her amusement fading with one, stiff nod. "They captured members from our junior Protector league; General, Shadow and Scar," she breathes, glancing around her. At the right angle, the sun makes the heavy bags under her eyes stand stark to her tanned complexion. "Hades and I were able to retrieve them, but Scar, he . . ." Anna closes her eyes, letting out a shuttering breath. "We got to him in time, but something was done to him. Black Dragon and Athena are looking into it now, but they're not sure if they can reverse whatever process the Ambassadors started.

"Then there's the issue of their threat," Anna growls, pinching the bridge of her nose, "and the fact that humanity remains blissfully ignorant. Our cards are limited if we want to continue operating with the world's support after everything is said and done."

"So a small hit-and-run Intel recon team is required," Elinor says, running a hand through her bangs. "Who are you thinking?"

"The original members," Anna answers, with a shrug. Elinor nods, unsurprised. "You and Athena will be the distraction," Anna continues, "pretending to discuss the issue of our junior members. Hades, Black Dragon and I will infiltrate the restricted areas of the ship and pull what information we can. If we're not done by the time you're finished, head back to Earth without us – Hades can get back safely, even if his portal method is"—she frowns—"unstable."

"A hell gate tends to be fickle, yeah," Elinor comments, her eyebrows furrowed into an unamused line. "Athena and I will _not_ leave until you're onboard the ship. Experiencing that portal trip once is enough to make a lesser person go insane; I'd rather none of us risk another."

"I'm immune," Anna says, shrugging.

Elinor sighs. "Maybe," she murmurs, her posture sagging just enough for Anna's keen eye to notice. "But that doesn't make you invincible."

The redhead chuckles, her fingers twitching. "No one needs to know that," Anna says, with a stiff smile. She nods inside the house. "Spend the rest of the day with your daughter," she says, turning and hopping down the front steps. "Our plans can wait until tonight."

* * *

One Month Later

Anna trudges up the pathway to Elinor's house, her shoulders slumped and face drawn. She's been making visits to all the residences of her former team and this is the last stop on her list; but she doesn't expect it to go better than the previous ones have.

She stops on the front steps, her throat tight and her chest clenched. How did it come to this, she wonders, as she raises a hand and gives a hollow, five rhythm knock.

The response is slow, heavy, and when Merida opens the door—

Anna sucks in a breath through clenched teeth, taking in the teenager's coiled muscles and her narrowed, bloodshot eyes. "Hey," the veteran superhero croaks, twitching a broken smile. "I heard—" her voice cracks, tears blurring her vision.

" _Anna!" the Bear screams. "Snap out of it; this isn't you! Just let us—" Anna drives her fist into her teammate's diaphragm, sending the mighty shape shifter straight through a nearby wall. The Bear struggles to her knees, a string of blood hanging from her bottom lip. "Please," Elinor rasps, her body swaying, "don't do this."_

"The accident," Anna says, gritting her teeth. "If she hadn't been on that flight when the debris from the Ambassador space ships—"

"Save it," Merida growls, her lips down turning into a harsh scowl. "If you really cared you would have been here two weeks ago, and you would have shown up to the fucking funereal." The muscles in the teenager's jaw jumps, fresh tears glossing over her reddened eyes. "I _needed_ you, Anna, and you wouldn't even answer your stupid phone. You didn't even send a goddamn text message!"

_Anna curls in on herself, clutching her abdomen and biting her tongue to stop herself from screaming. "Make the antidote," she orders, her body spasming. A choked groan forces it's way past her mouth, the agony in her voice making even herself cringe._

" _An antidote isn't possible," Calhoun says, her disembodied voice echoing in the empty Protector hall._

" _Then make a suppressant!" Anna shouts, gurgling out a scream. "Do whatever you need to do to! Just make it_ stop _."_

"I . . ." Anna frowns. "I'm sorry." It's a weak answer, but there's no excuse in the world she can fabricate that will make things right with the woman in front of her. And, because of her sins, telling the truth isn't an option, either.

"You're sorry?" Merida bellows, shoving Anna off the front stoop. The superhero stumbles down the two stairs, narrowly avoiding landing flat on her back. "What kind of friend up and disappears the moment you need them? Not the kind you keep!"

Anna blinks, her heart clenching and her lungs refusing to operate. "That"—she swallows, hard—"t-that's fair," she croaks, wincing. She reaches into her pocket. "I just wanted—"

"Get a fucking clue!" the teenager roars. "I don't want you coming around here anymore! The only way you could _ever_ make it up to me is if you bring me Arson's fucking head, which we both know you can't accomplish; so _leave_ or I'll call the fucking cops!" She slams the door, the sound echoing in the dead silence of the neighbourhood.

Anna sighs and steps forward, setting Elinor's wedding ring in front of the door. "I just wanted to return this," she whispers, straightening her posture as much as her guilt allows, and walking away from the house she's always viewed as a second home.

Despite everything, Merida's reception was still better than the other places she stopped by. The redhead's focus is drawn to the throbbing in her lower back, and she hangs her head in shame. Now she can never be free of her mistakes, even if she never picks up Arson's mask again.

* * *

Present Day

Anna stands at the edge of the skyscraper's roof, lined with a short cement wall, watching over the nightly bustle of Arendelle city.

Donning her black, heat resistant villain costume with her hair done up in a tight bun, she could be taken for a statue. The only hint of her being a living human—and she uses that term in the vaguest sense—is her tanned, rosy complexion and the sharp edge of her eyes.

How did she get here? Sometimes she wonders that herself, on the rare occasions she allows herself to remember the superhero she used to be. The one who wore a skin-tight crimson red body suit, a white half-face mask and her hair in twin braids. Anna will still wear her hair in braids, when she's _Anna_ instead of _Arson_ , but she doesn't allow anything else to remain the same.

Heavy grade boots instead of speed shoes. Armour plated cargo pants and long-sleeve shirt instead of the simple onesie. Knuckle plated gloves instead of bare hands. A fire and heat retardant metal respirator that filters what _she breathes out_ instead of what _she breathes in_.

She doesn't deserve to be concerned over her health. Not after what she's done.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket, and the villain sighs. Anna has all but dropped off the face of the earth in her civilian life, meaning the only people who could be calling her are connected in the ever expanding web of metahumans and their allies. She lets the caller go to voice mail. It doesn't say her name, or contain her voice. Makes it easier when using the same phone for both of her lives.

It's only when her phone buzzes to alert her of the voicemail that Anna takes out her phone and looks at it. She has three missed calls, all from restricted numbers. At least they got a hint and left a message this time. Anna doesn't make a habit of returning the calls of numbers phone networks don't allow her to see.

The wind picks up, a winter bite nipping at the villain's exposed skin. It's a sensation she's come to dread.

"Great," Anna mutters, raising an eyebrow and side-eying Blizzard as the hero perches on the corner of the skyscraper's roof, ice crackling under her feet. The winter storm that propelled the ice-armoured champion dies off, allowing Anna to see the taller woman in all her righteous glory.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," Anna drawls, her voice distorted by the respirator. She leans against the cement wall lining the edge of the roof. "But as you can see"—the redhead gestures around her—"there are no fires to douse here. I suggest you go somewhere and be useful for a change."

Through Blizzard's helm of ice, which covers her whole face sans the eyes, Anna can make out the icy woman's sneer.

"Cut the shit, Arson," Blizzard growls, her gauntleted hands tightening into fists. "Tell me where you took my parents."

Anna's eyebrows fall into an unamused line. "I don't know if you've noticed," she drawls, "but I'm not exactly known for kidnapping, or subtlety. If I found out who your parents were and felt compelled to do something to them, you would've find their bodies burnt to a crisp instead of missing." Blizzard's eyes flash, snow whipping around her in angry arcs. Anna holds up her hands in a pacifying motion. "Relax," the metahuman mutters, "I'm not known for stone cold murder, either."

"No," Blizzard snarls, "just white hot slaughter."

"Okay, that was more like acidic slaughter," Anna says, "and it was only the one time. You should let it go."

"You've killed thousands of people, most of them in the period of _one day_ ," Blizzard barks. "I am _not_ letting that go; this _city_ isn't going to let that go, and that was not the last time you took someone's life."

Anna shrugs. "Yeah, but they all deserved it," she says, with a saucy grin her counterpart can't see. "Whoa!" Anna shouts, dodging an icicle and setting her body aflame to melt the next one. Her outfit illuminates with red designs, activated by the heat. "Calm the fuck down, woman, it was a joke!" Under her breath, she mutters, "Kind-of."

"A bad joke," Blizzard rumbles, her icy armour dancing with the golden orange reflections of her rival's power. Despite the hero's tone, she doesn't make a move to continue her assault. Anna grabs the opportunity.

"Look, Blue," Anna says, raising from her fighting stance and letting her flames dissipate. "You want your parents and I want you to go back to being a rational human being. Think we can come to an agreement? I help you find good 'ol ma and pa and you stop accusing me all the damn time? Seriously, twenty-five percent of the time you harass me I haven't even _done_ anything."

Blizzard raises an eyebrow. "Twenty-five percent compared to the amount of times we've crossed paths isn't very high," she dead-pans.

"It totally is, because you always blame me for the big things," Anna accuses, crossing her arms over her chest. "The time city hall caught fire _from a wiring malfunction_ "—Blizzard winces—"or when the city council head dude burst into spontaneous combustion," Anna lists. " _Or_ the time when a cruise ship on the middle of the Atlantic blew up. Each time I had to fucking prove that I was innocent for you to stop shouting for my execution. I don't know what kind of villain you think I am—"

"The kind that goes after the most influential people of any given country because they piss you off," Blizzard snaps.

"Well, yeah," Anna states, "but I've never killed any of them." _For the most part_ , Anna adds, in the comfort of her own mind.

"No," Blizzard agrees, "but you tortured them. Left them with irreparable damage."

"I doubt that," Anna says, waving off the concern. "They were all treated by the Golden Flower. Her powers would've healed any damage I caused to them."

"Physical damage, maybe," Blizzard scolds, "but she can't repair psychological damage." Anna hums, uninterested. Blizzard scowls. "My point is that I have more than enough reason to assume you are the culprit when things go array," she says.

Anna throws her hands into the air. "My powers aren't limited to fire, you fucking jackass," she shouts, the intensity of her words dulled by the mask. "When CEO Hans-the-douchebag got the shit beaten out of him I bet the thought of me as the culprit hadn't even crossed your mind because, 'Oh, well, there's no evidence _fire_ here so it can't be _Arson_ , because Arson can't _possibly_ have fucking _super strength_.' Even though you've fought with me enough times to realize that I can rip a five story house out of the ground with my _bare hands_ , which you _know_ because I _fucking threw it at you_."

One second. Two seconds. Thr—

"You beat up Hans Westerguard?" Blizzard asks.

Anna blinks, taken off guard. Out of everything the hero could have freak'n reacted to she just had to choose— "Uh," she sounds, dumbly. "No?" _Definitely not_ , she thinks, as if it makes a difference.

Blizzard raises an eyebrow. "Well," she hums, "as much as I hate to say it; if you did do it, don't tell anyone. I was able to pin the blame on the Weasel and his experiments, and you know how hard it is to get him locked up."

_Tell me about it_ , Anna thinks. She's wanted Weselton out of the picture even after she turned into a villain, as did most of the big bads. Being one loose screw away from being a total nut case did wonders in demolishing any good relations he might have had.

"You mean I'm being offered a freebie from the protector of freedom and justice herself?" Anna asks. "That's not something you hear often."

"Don't push your luck," Blizzard warns. "I still have a list of crimes that could send you away for life."

"Yeah," Anna allows, because it's true. The Ambassador debacle alone—that ended in the annihilation of Ambassadors' 'peaceful' fleet and four dead superheroes—would be enough to have Anna locked away for five lifetimes. The redhead sighs, shaking her head. The reminder that she used to be the face of justice long before Blizzard and the Golden Flower even constituted as front-page news stings. The fact that everyone outright blames her without knowing the details stings; but it's better that way. If living this life of crime prevents the world from learning the truth, then it's a life worth living.

"Enough banter," Anna grunts, her mood souring. "Do you want my help or not?"

Blizzard's fingers twitch. "So you can figure out my identity through them? No thank you," she declines, repulsed by the notion.

Anna shrugs. "Okay," she says, uncaring. The less she has to do with the Protector league and Calhoun, the base's AI, the better. So she turns and bolts to the edge of the roof, shouting, "don't say I never tried to be nice!" as leaps off the building with a whoop, fire rocketing out from the soles of her feet and propelling her through the night sky.

Blizzard watches the redhead fly away, trying to prevent her fingers from curling into fists.

"Fuck!" the blond shouts, ripping off her helm and smashing it against the rooftop. Her heavy breathing mists in the chill that surrounds her, and she tries to take comfort in that. At least some things remain normal.

With a steadying breath, Blizzard reforms her helm and uses her powers to propel her in the opposite direction of the once treasured hero. She has more important things to deal with than an amber who fell from grace.


	2. The Past that Haunts Us

Four Years Ago

Elsa lands a block from her home, dissolving her icy armour before trudging to her apartment and locking herself inside. The moment she hears the bolt clicking into place, her cell phone rings. She pulls it out, whimpering when she sees Rapunzel's number. But she can't ignore it; not with pieces of the Ambassador ships falling through the atmosphere. Even if she _has_ been on hero duty for the last twenty-four hours, fixing the mess the elite Protectors appear keen on ignoring.

"Yeah?" Elsa sighs, groaning as she sinks into her less-than-stellar living room couch.

" _Turn on the TV. Put it on Arendelle news_ ," Rapunzel demands, her voice stiff. The blond frowns, following her friend's instructions.

What she sees makes her sit up, back ramrod straight, her eyes widening in horror.

"No," she whispers, her chest contracting. "Why are they—?" Words fail her, and she watches in growing dread as a frantic reporting team catches:

 _Arson, her pupils glowing moonlit black and her irises a smoking red, grabs Hades by the hair and slams his head into the pavement, concaving the immediate area. Arson growls, heat waves shuddering off of her form, and she swings, throwing Hades to—and through—some nearby wreckage of an Ambassador ship. The fire superpower hunches over, her muscles coiling, and she_ roars _, smoke filtering through her mask and rolling up the curves of her face._

_Hades slams into her from above, appearing through a hell gate. He takes them both to the ground._

" _It's time to pay for your crimes," Hades hisses, an odd glint in his eyes. Shadows lick his form, and they attach themselves to Arson as he slams his fist into her chest, the_ crack _of breaking ribs reaching the reporter's microphone. Arson cries out, her back arching into the road._

_The redhead's pupils narrow into pinpricks and, in a move too quick to catch, Hades is the one on his back, getting his skull driven into the ground under an assault of flying knuckles. Arson howls, silver laced black fire spilling around her mask._

_Hades, eyes widening, opens a hell gate beneath him – dragging Arson with him. Moments later they fall from the sky, fists flying and magic blasting at deafening velocities._

_When their height reaches the tops of the skyscrapers, Arson releases a blinding explosion, sending Hades hurdling towards the concrete. At the last possible second he opens a hell gate, opening the other end beside Arson, using his momentum to slam into the redhead and send them both crashing clear through a nearby skyscraper._

_Arson propels herself through the air with fire when they exit the other side of the building, expertly avoiding Hades as he jumps from hell gate to hell gate, trying to drag his teammate into an early grave._

_With an arcing twirl, Arson grabs Hades by the shirt and throws him into the ground, sending cracks through the road, sidewalks and nearby infrastructure._

" _Yes," Arson rumbles, landing beside the wheezing man and driving her heel into his sternum to keep him down. "My crimes do need to be answered for," she says, her voice a deep, rolling growl, "but that doesn't mean I'll pay for mine before you pay for yours." A sadistic spark lights in her eyes. "Goodbye, Hades."_

_Arson sucks in a breath, the very air around her trembling as her powers build on her tongue. Her suit, specially designed to resist her powers, begins smoking, flaking under the pressure._

_The redhead surges forward, screaming what might have been, 'die!' but is lost in the screeching roar of glowing silver, midnight black fire._

_When the fire clears, there's nothing left of once mighty 'God of Hell.'_

_Arson cracks her neck, a deep laugh crackling through her lungs as she tilts her head to the sky, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement._

" _Oh my god," the reporter gasps in horror, off screen._

_The redhead blinks, her eyes boring into the reporter when her lids open, then directly into the lens of the camera. Arson's head lowers, her irises glowing brighter as she stalks forward, her fingers twitching with stray, normal, flames._

" _Is this a live broadcast?" the superhero rumbles, when she's looming over the fallen cameraman. Arson glances to the side, taking in the reporter's non-verbal response. "Good," she growls, grabbing the camera and the reporter's microphone. She takes to the sky, putting herself center stage and spinning, slow enough to see the destruction of the city around her, littered with pieces of the peaceful alien fleet._

" _Citizens of the world," Arson says, her voice dark, menacing, "I bring you a public update regarding the current global dishevel." She leans forward, her eyes narrowing. "I am the only elite Protector remaining," she snarls, irises flashing, "and I am the cause of the hell you're all experiencing. The Ambassadors experienced slaughter you can never hope to imagine, by my hand, and I hope to give you an accurate depiction of what will happen should you try to detain me for my crimes."_

_The camera shifts, turning until it's looking straight down, the frightening height only mildly dulled by the light flares the flames from Arson's feet cast on the lens._

" _Imagine your life is in my hands," she whispers, her breath puffing against the microphone. "Now," Arson whispers, closer, "imagine you start slipping"—the camera jiggles—"and imagine you_ beg _, but I just stare at you, watching realization hit you like a freight train." The camera falls an inch and dangles, swinging back and forth. "Realization," Arson repeats, as if she were in the room next to you, "that the mighty hero you know and love, can and will let you_ die _."_

_The camera falls, lens facing down._

_Arson's cackling sounds in the background, ever distant—she must have dropped the microphone—and then, nothing_.

Elsa's phone lay on her lap, long since fallen from her still raised hand.

"My god," the blond croaks, her mouth dry. Her heart throbs, as if something essential to her continued existence was robbed from her.

Arson, her hero, _the world's hero_ , just slaughtered Hades before the eyes of millions, admitted to murdering an alien fleet unprovoked and threatened humanity's continued existence in one fell swoop.

"This must be a mistake," she murmurs, numb. She pats her lap, bringing her phone back up to her ear, upside down. "Was this footage confirmed?" she croaks.

" _Yeah_ ," Rapunzel says, her voice strained. " _It aired live in England a few hours ago. We're . . . we're one of the last news stations to show it. Arendelle refused to believe—_ "

"Screw what they believe," Elsa snaps, " _I_ don't believe it. Arson has done nothing in the past to suggest a mental break of this magnitu—"

" _Elsa_ ," the Golden Flower interrupts, her voice rough with restrained tears. " _Please, you aren't helping_."

Tears burn in Elsa's eyes, her chest heaving in silent sobs. "No," the inspiring hero chokes, her throat tightening. "I refuse—" her breath hitches, and she curls in on herself, feeling her insides wither.

" _The General is taking temporary control over the Protector base_ ," Rapunzel continues, her brave face holding strong. " _He's calling all metahumans to_ "—she swallows—" _to show up for an open recruitment. To fill the empty positions_."

It takes Elsa way longer than it should to catch on, and even longer to process. Even then, the only thing that breaks her from her trance is:

" _I'm going,_ " Rapunzel says, almost too soft to hear. " _Will you come with me?_ "

Elsa thinks about that, staring at the continued babble of the news station, reporting on the collective damage the world sustained from being assaulted with spaceship debris. How much of it could have been avoided if the elite Protectors were still alive? The blond's eyes narrow.

"Yeah," Blizzard growls, her features hardening. "Count me in."

* * *

 

Present Day

Elsa storms into the Protector base, dissolving her armour.

Belle steps out from the kitchen with a raised eyebrow. She takes a sip of tea from the mug in her hand, examining her leader's body language before saying, "You look like someone dragged you through hell."

"They might as well have," Elsa says, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I didn't find out anything useful," she whispers, trudging into the common area and collapsing on the closest couch. Belle follows her.

"What did you expect?" Belle says, sitting on the couch's armrest.

"Something," Elsa murmurs, flopping onto her stomach and burying her head in her arms. "Did you find anything?" Belle shakes her head, even though the other woman can't see her.

"No. Unfortunately," the brunette says, "what I needed is in the part of the database Calhoun protects from seeing the light of day."

Elsa winces, not daring to say, 'but you're _Decryption_ , getting through network blocks like that is what you _do_.' Calhoun has a defense system that attacks hacking users personally, no matter what country they're in, no matter what planet. The superheroes of the league tried inquiring about _how_ , but Calhoun would only say, 'you do not have the clearance for that information.' When they asked who _did_ have access, the AI said, 'that information is classified.' Elsa can't imagine why, but it's a headache she's long since put on the bottom self.

"Did you find any potential leads, at least?" Belle asks.

Blizzard opens her mouth to answer 'no,' but pauses. After a moment, she rolls onto her back and stares up at the ceiling, a critical expression on her face.

"I might have," Elsa allows, her lips curling in distaste. "But I'd rather not bargain with Arson."

Belle's back stiffens, her mug halting halfway to her lips. "Arson, huh?" Belle asks, her voice strained. Her eyebrows furrow. "What did she say?"

"Mainly to fuck off," Elsa drawls, "but she did mention helping me if I 'stop blaming her for everything.' Whatever her twisted mind translates that to mean."

Belle hums, the attention in her eyes fading. Elsa watches, wondering what memories the French woman associates with the world's most wanted criminal. Is it the obvious, with Arson's recorded crime and confession, or something more personal?

Elsa stares at a random point on the far wall, absent.

Despite Arson's crimes, her malice, when the blond finally meet the woman, she didn't find herself facing the cold hearted villain she thought she would. Sure Arson was brutal and nearly beat Elsa to death, but there was something crucial missing in the villain's eyes, and something there that shouldn't have been.

Arson's gotten better at hiding these edges throughout the years, but every now and then Elsa will catch a glimpse of her rival before the woman notices her presence. Elsa rarely sees Arson's face in these moments, but she doesn't have to – because the clues are in the set of the villain's shoulders, the way her head hangs forward, the way her fingers tremble when no one's looking.

Arson is . . . subdued, compared to her villain debut that went world-wide within a matter of hours. Elsa wants to believe, in those rare moments she sees Arson with her guard down, that the superhero she used to love is still in there somewhere. But then Arson looks at her, and Elsa knows it's a fool's dream. The hero she idealized died a long time ago.

"Do you think she could pull it off?" Belle asks, her tone carefully blank.

"She certainly has the connections," Elsa replies, "but she's not someone I want to get into a habit of collaborating with. It's too tempting to . . . forget, what she's done." She winces, appalled by her own weakness. One would think four years would be plenty of time to allow reality to sink in far enough to prevent such a foolish notion.

Belle twitches a forced smile. "Perhaps," she concedes, taking a sip of tea. "How many potential leads do you have left?"

"Not many, but there are some," Elsa says, with a shrug. "Enough to find my parents."

Belle glances at her leader out of the corner of her eye. "Yes," she says, slowly, "but is it enough to find them before something happens to them?"

Elsa cringes. "God, I hope so," she whispers.

Belle glances down, watching her tea as she swirls it around. "Arson's number is programmed into the system," she states, her eyes hardening and the muscles in her jaw jumping. "Calhoun has the exact number locked in her blackout zone, God knows why, but she can make the call should you decide you need that woman's help." She rubs her eyes, fingers trembling.

"I won't need to," Elsa says, sitting up. "Don't worry," she whispers, "I'm not going to give Arson the chance to weasel her way back into our hearts."

"You may not have a choice," Belle says, standing. She turns and walks back to the kitchen, spine stiff, saying, "Not unless you're okay with finding your parents dead, or broken."

Elsa's throat clenches, and she lays back down, fighting the rising urge to cry. That's something she certainly _isn't_ okay with, but she's not okay with working with Arson, either. Then there's Shang, Mulan and Jane to think about – those who used to be junior Protectors during the rule of the original elites. Arson has used the trio's identities as leverage on more than a dozen counts to blackmail her way out of trouble. Jane staged her death, and that of her old superhero identity in turn, just to be released from Arson's thumb – but that only works so long as Arson doesn't see Jane's face.

The strange thing is that no one in the trio knows what Arson's civilian identity is – nor the other four former elites. Apparently they were a tight-knit group, who kept as many secrets from the world as they did from the junior leaguers.

According to them, the former elites had collective secrets larger than the restricted area of Calhoun's database.

"Would you like me to dial Arson?" Calhoun asks, from one of the many hidden speakers in the base.

"No," Elsa sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I got this."

"Yo," Megara, otherwise known as Hercules, says, poking her head in the room. "Some weirdo in Russia is asking for you. Something about the Headless Horseman haunting Moscow?"

"Fucking hell," Elsa says, groaning as she rolls off the couch. "I can't have five minutes without someone causing shit, can I?"

Megara shrugs. "Apparently," she says, following her leader to the main meeting room. "Who do you want to deal with it?"

"I don't know," Elsa grumbles, running her fingers through her bangs. "Merida and Kida, I guess, unless the Horseman is doing stranger shit than usual."

Megara raises an eyebrow. "Those two working together is a disaster waiting to happen," she warns.

" _Merida_ is a disaster waiting to happen," Elsa mutters, "but I need her out of the way for a couple of days while I search for my parents."

Megara frowns, grabbing Elsa's arm before the face of the Protectors can enter the designated meeting room, the Russian 'weirdo' already up on one of the many picture-window-sized screens. "We can help you," the mighty woman whispers. "You don't have to do this by yourself."

Elsa nods. "Yeah," she agrees, "but I might—" she grinds her teeth. "I might have to cooperate with Arson," she says, spitting the name like a curse. "And I'd rather prevent potential . . . hiccups, before they happen."

Megara's head snaps back, eyes wide. The corners of her mouth tighten, debating what to address; the fact that it's _Arson_ , or the fact that Merida will personally try to murder Elsa if she works with the villain.

"I would tell you how bad of an idea that is, but you already know that," Megara says, releasing her hold on Elsa's arm. "Just, be smart. Whatever you do."

Elsa nods, and disappears inside the meeting room.

Megara sighs and rubs the back of her neck. "God," she murmurs, "I don't envy that decision."

"It's not one she should be forced to make," Mulan, Shadow, says, appearing from nowhere. Megara jumps.

"Fucking hell," Megara hisses, with a sneer. "Could you not?"

"I've been checking in on everyone," Mulan says, as if the strongest metahuman alive hadn't spoken. "Elsa's only in this predicament because our AI refuses to allow Belle the access she needs to find the culprit ourselves."

"Incorrect," Calhoun says, making Megara jump again.

"The pair of you are going to kill me, I swear," Megara mutters.

"Belle was attempting to access irrelevant information connected to what data she had available to her," Calhoun continues, undeterred. "And for your information, I have been searching for Elsa's parents on my own." That catches the pair's attention. "Whomever the culprit is, they're smart enough to not leave an electronic trail. In order to find Agdar and Idunn, Elsa will need to crack down on the underground and villain networks."

"Or get someone else to do it for her," Mulan murmurs, eyebrows furrowing. "I still don't like the idea of that person being Arson. Sure she'll get the job done, but at what cost? With what details hidden in the fine print?"

Calhoun doesn't respond and, in lieu of an answer, Megara shrugs. Mulan sighs.

"I guess that's Elsa's decision, in the end," Mulan says, turning and _walking_ away for once. "I'll see you around," she adds, over her shoulder.

"Yeah," Megara mutters, heading in the other direction. "The question is whether or not I'll see you."

In the Protector database, Calhoun settles part of her awareness in the blackout zone, her mind thumbing Arson's file. A particular recording jumps out at her, and she allows herself a second to process it.

" _You can't let them know," Arson mutters, backing away from the knocked out junior leaguers, tears burning in her eyes._

" _They'll understand," Calhoun tries to reason, scanning the young metahumans for their individual states of health. They had caught Arson inside the base and attempted to reason with her, then subdue her when that failed. The former hero could have prevented the whole debacle by_ explaining _her situation, but the redhead outright refuses, and Calhoun can't think of a single reason why._

_Arson shakes her head, her body trembling. "No," she whispers, gritting her teeth. "I don't want them understanding," she says, tears streaking down her cheeks. "I can't have them trusting me. It isn't safe."_

" _Anna," Calhoun sighs, "be reasonable."_

_Arson's eyes harden at the sound of her name, her posture straightening. "No," she repeats, harsher this time. Her eyes slide to the closest camera. "And never call me Anna again. From henceforth both my profiles will be locked into your blackout zone with only my authorization for unlock except in extraordinary circumstances when the leaguers have no chance without it, even then only relevant information may be disclosed. I order this under the hero clause subsection fifty-one. Only public known knowledge may be accessed in your database by anyone other than you or I. Do you confirm?"_

_If Calhoun still had a jaw, she would be grinding her teeth. How can one human, gifted or not, be so_ stupid _. "I confirm," she grits._

_Arson's eyes soften, and her gaze flicks away from the lens. She glances around at the mess the earlier fight had made of the base, and she sighs. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, turning heel and bolting to the secret exit only she and Black Dragon knew about. Now only Arson knows of it's existence._

_Calhoun shifts a base camera, getting a better look at the three teenagers the future of the league rests on. Will they be enough, she wonders, or has Anna doomed more than her own reputation in her recklessness?_

"Calhoun!" Belle calls, again, grabbing the AI's attention.

"Yes?" Calhoun asks, projecting her voice into the right room.

"Ahh, I was wondering where you were," Belle says, typing away on one of the base's terminals. "Before you start zapping me with your secret poison powder, again, am I allowed to access the home folder this information comes from?" Calhoun scans the data the terminal is tapped into.

"No," the AI says, wanting to wince when she sees Belle sigh.

"What's the point of having so much accumulated records if only the AI is allowed to know what's in them?" Decryption whispers, more to herself than to anyone else.

Calhoun doesn't answer, or else she fears the words she'll say will out just how vulnerable the base's security system is to the leaguers number one enemy. Not because of Arson's personal locks or because of the staggering access she still retains, but because Calhoun's security system is useless against the villain. Not unless she wants to turn one of the strongest metahumans alive into a mindless murder. Not if she wants to prevent history from repeating itself.


	3. The People We Become

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shout out to my beta [itsnotkristoff](http://itsnotkristoff.tumblr.com/) (tumblr), who fixed those stupid mistakes that irritate you all.

 Four Years Ago

"You murdered her!" Anna roars, grabbing Athena by the neck and smashing her head through a nearby medical table.

"What are you talking about?" Athena chokes, swinging her elbow into the crook of Anna's neck. Anna staggers away, teeth bared and eyes glowing red with silver streaked black. The raging hero bellows, spittle flying from her lips.

Athena backs away, her eyes flickering from the sizzling metal under Anna's feet to the heat waves obscuring the view of her friend. "We have a problem," the self-proclaimed goddess whispers. "A big one."

" _What's going on?_ " Bear asks, her voice crackling through Athena's damaged earpiece.

"It's Arson," Athena whispers, dodging white-hot flames as Anna launches into an all-out assault. "Damn it!" she shouts, deflecting fireballs with her forearm guards. She grits her teeth as heat shoots up her arms in agonising pulses. "She's going to take down the whole damn ship at this rate. I'll try to contain her, but you two need to find Hades and get him to safety, _now_."

" _We're trying_ ," Black Dragon growls, faint sounds of fighting filtering in over the connection. " _He has to be located on a different fucking ship in the fleet_."

"Just find him!" Athena barks, slamming her foot into Anna's chest; that split second connection heating her sabaton to the point of crying out. "Goddamn it!" she swears, kicking her heel into a solution-filled full-body test tube. Half the liquid dissolves into steam on contact.

"She was _everything_ to me!" Anna screams, dashing in close with her bare knuckles flying. It takes everything in Athena's power to keep the woman from making contact.

The floor beneath them collapses, the scorched metal giving way under the strain.

Athena rolls when she hits solid ground, her eyes widening when she finds herself crouching in the middle of the barracks. Ambassadors start shouting around her, but she can't deduce if they bear their weapons because of her, or because of the howling lunatic encased in self-produced flames.

"I'll make you pay!" Anna screeches, grabbing an Ambassador by the hair and ripping his head clean off his shoulders. She pushes his body aside, eyes locked on Athena. "I'll make you regret ever looking upon Jennifer's face," she snarls, retying her cloth mask over the bottom half of her face.

Athena's heart jumps in alarm. "What?" she whispers, muscles unwinding at the pure absurdity that slaps her in the face. _She believes I'm dead_ , Athena realizes, jumping out of the way of a blinding explosion. "Arson!" she shouts. "Anna," she amends, when the hero's response is hurtling a chunk of the wall at her. "Jennifer isn't dead!" Athena bellows, grunting when Anna's fist connects with her abdomen.

Athena collapses to the floor, the air robbed from her lungs and her internal temperature spiking to nauseating heights. Anna looms over the fallen goddess, her fingers curling into fists.

"I won't believe your lies a second time," Anna rumbles, her irises flashing as she cocks back her fist.

 _It's me!_ Athena thinks, looking up in rising terror as the closest friend she's ever had prepares to crush her skull. _Please_ , Athena begs, tears springing in her eyes. She desperately fights for air, desperately tries to cool her organs enough so she can do _something_ , say _anything_.

Anna's eyes crinkle in sick satisfaction. "I'll see you in hell, witch," she purrs, hammering her knuckles down.

Athena never stood a chance.

* * *

 

Present Day

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

Executioner's Axe grabs Arson by the hair, yanking her head back. The alien Viking holds up the redhead's phone, the screen flashing with a series of fake numbers Anna knows too well.

"Tell me who this is," Axe growls, her blue eyes narrowing. Anna snarls, unseen from behind her mask.

"Fuck you," Arson spits, punching Axe—Queen of planet Berk—square in the nose. "Thank you," Anna sing-songs, twisting out of the woman's hold and regaining possession of her phone. She answers the call. "Sup?" she says, leaping out of the way of a thrown sword.

A few blows are exchanged before the person on the other line asks, " _Is this a bad time?_ "

"Totally a bad time," Arson replies in good humour, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement. "And I have really bad connection on this planet," she adds, ducking and sending a swinging kick into Axe's side. "You should really invest in more comm relays."

" _Perhaps_ ," Calhoun allows, " _but I don't have authorization to undertake that feat without leaguer permission_."

"Tell them they're assholes," Anna says, blasting white hot flames from her free hand. "Exploiting their incompetence tends to get their priorities in order. At least from what I've experienced. You should consider disciplining them; they're not very good at putting their emotions on the backburner." _Nor am I_ , Anna adds, but she'll never admit that aloud.

Calhoun is silent, allowing the battle to take the center of Anna's focus. She pulls the bottom of her phone away from her mask and shouts, "I don't know why you're so pissy! I wouldn't even be here if you hadn't kidnapped me!"

"You released one of the worst criminals on Berk!" Axe bellows, her lips twisting into a vicious snarl.

"The Beast Master isn't _that_ bad!" Anna defends. A building collapses behind her. The redhead raises an eyebrow. "Actually, you should probably go detain him," she amends. "Go on! Don't let me stop you."

Axe growls, pulling that very weapon from her belt. "Drago may be the worst criminal on Berk, but you are the worst interplanetary criminal in the galaxy," she says. "Who do you think takes my priority?"

"I'd like to think the man destroying all your property," Anna says, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder. "I mean, I just blew up my section of the jail because sitting there for a week was driving me insane. Believe me; I have no urge to add Berk—and the Dragon King in turn—as another notch to my interplanetary crimes. Not right now, at least."

Axe narrows her eyes. "How _did_ you blow out of your cell?" she asks, suspicious. "We had it tested by every dragon in our arsenal. You shouldn't have been able to get out." Anna shrugs.

"I'm built to blow shit up," the redhead says. "You shouldn't really be all that surprised when I actually do."

Calhoun hums. " _I see you're just as good at making new friends_ ," she says, her voice crackling through the bad signal.

Anna puts the bottom of the phone back against her mask. "Know when I said this was a bad time?" she asks. "That means leave me alone until it's _not_ a bad time."

" _My reason for calling is under time limit_ ," Calhoun says, with a subtle warning in her tone Anna has always disliked.

"Oh," Anna airs with a frown. "That won't work, then. I don't think I'll be able to acquire transport to Earth for a few days." Anna's eyes widen and she leaps out of the way of dragon needles. "Make that a week," she corrects, rolling to her feet. _Hopefully sooner_ , she thinks.

" _With any luck I won't require you on Earth at all_ ," Calhoun says, " _that is, if you're still as resourceful as you used to be_."

Anna surrounds herself in a vortex of fire. "As resourceful as I am," she acknowledges, shouting over the wind, "I'm not a very useful when my attention is focused on keeping my head and neck attached. Besides," she adds, now that the Axe can't eavesdrop on her, "you have no jurisdiction over me anymore. I'm a villain now."

" _I've noticed_ ," Calhoun drawls, the undertone of her voice putting Anna on edge.

"Look—" Anna pauses, a familiar sound making her pupils narrow. "I gotta go," she says, hanging up and burying her phone in one of her zip pockets, lined with heat retardant material and armour to keep the device safe.

Anna releases her tornado and bolts, narrowly avoiding being crushed under the Dragon King's night fury.

"Well, Arson," the Dragon King says behind his leather mask, sitting regal on his dragon's saddle. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Goddamn it!" Anna snarls, hunching into a tight fighting stance. "What the hell have I ever done to you? Because as far as I recall, the worst crime I've committed against Berk is avoiding you crazy fucks." She eyes the night fury, Toothless—an odd name, considering his strength—and Stormfly, a Deadly Nadder, in turn. "I'm not exactly keen on being eaten," she murmurs, taking an unconscious step back.

Axe raises an eyebrow. "Coming from the woman who condemned thousands to a fate worse than death," she dead-pans.

Anna suppresses a wince. Planets across the galaxy heard the screaming souls of the departed on the day the Ambassador fleet was annihilated, but only a scarce few know that Anna was the cause. Not even the current heroes of Earth are privy to the details, but that's more because of Calhoun's data suppression than the league's incompetence.

"Yes," Anna says, her jaw stiffening. "Everyone has their fears." _It's just a matter of figuring them out_ , she thinks, glancing between her opponents. Her gaze flicks to the King's robotic leg. Neither he nor his dragon would be very functional without it, would they?

Toothless snarls, shifting to obscure Anna's view. The redhead grins, a predatory edge glinting in her eyes.

"You know, I'm curious," Anna purrs, taking slow, precise steps around the King and his dragon; never getting closer or further away. "What kind of fire does a night fury wield?" Her eyes darken, head tilting down. "Is it stronger than mine?" she growls, eying Toothless's scales. "Do you honestly believe either of you could survive me, if I actually wanted you dead?"

"Enough of this!" Axe shouts, her features contorting in ire.

 _Axe holds Hade's heart in her hand, a malicious smile twisting her lips like a copper wire immersed in flame_.

Anna staggers, shaking the false memory from her head. "Fuck," she whispers, the corners of her eyes pinching. It shouldn't be setting it in this fast. "You're right!" Anna bellows, before Axe and her dragon can charge her. Toothless's head snaps back in surprise. Axe almost trips over her own feet. The villain stands, holding her hands in front of her in surrender. "I think you should call the Protector league and have them decide what to do with this situation." _Why the fuck did I have to hang up on that annoying AI in the first place?_ Anna wonders, gritting her teeth.

Axe laughs, twirling her weapon. "Why the hell would we do that?" she asks. "Everyone in the universe knows you have a death grip Earth's heroes; lording blackmail and the lives of humans over their heads to weasel your way out of trouble."

Whispers echo at the back of Anna's mind, like a tree branch tapping against a broken window. "Like it's any different here," the redhead spits, trying to keep her thoughts in order. She gestures to the ground. "I just blew up a fireproof fucking cell," Anna bellows, eyes flashing, "do you think the scales on your fucking dragons or the _wood_ that makes up your homes will fare any better if you give me any desire to level this place?"

Toothless and Stormfly inch away, worry showing in the cants of their shoulders, the flexing of their claws.

"Okay!" the King yells, holding up his hands to stop the bickering before it causes Berk's demise. "We get the point," he continues, softer, after Axe relents by shouting and swinging her axe clean through a tree. Stormfly stops it from falling through a nearby roof. "What do you want?" Dragon King asks, ignoring his wife's temper tantrum that can—and has—lead to deaths in the past.

"I need to get to Earth," Anna says, the words slipping from her mouth before she can think her demands through.

"Okay," the King relents, "when do you need to be there by?"

"Two hours ago," Anna answers, with a bitter smile no one can see. Cackling echoes like wind through a deserted forest inside the villain's mind, and the redhead closes her eyes, attempting to calm her panicked heart with steadying breaths.

"Why, is there some sort of heist you're late for?" Axe spits, her words dripping with venom.

Anna snaps her narrowed pupils to the vengeful hero, keeping a firm hold on the anger rising in her chest. "No," Arson says, her voice flat and chilling. "But I can assure you the lives of entire planets will be at risk should I not arrive in time." She barks an unsettling laugh. "Call the league if you don't believe me," she cackles, "ask what 'protocol zero dash five THF' means. See what they tell you." _Listen to how Calhoun reacts_ , Anna thinks. It's not like anyone else, living or dead, knows what the protocol is – it was installed by Anna herself into Calhoun's emergency override system after the Ambassador incident.

Gods, the goldmine of secrets Calhoun guards. If anyone ever comes along with an immunity to the AI's defense system—gaining access to the mountain of information the former elites kept hidden from the world—they could very well topple the fragile galactic balance.

They could destroy Anna.

"As if," Axe snarls, knuckles tightening around the hilt of her weapon. "You used to be a part of the league. Who knows what shut down codes are locked inside your head. We are _not_ going to help you accomplish _anything_."

Anna grits her teeth, feeling the blood vessels in her eyes pulse with the strain of not bursting. "Fine," she growls, zipping open a pocket and pulling out her phone. "Then excuse me while I call my crazy ex-girlfriend back and tell her I can't make our hate sex appointment. Whoa!" Anna shouts, dodging dragon needles. "Calm the fuck down! Jesus! What the fuck is wrong with you people?"

"Your gull!" Axe bellows, teeth grinding. "Now put away your phone or I'll smash it into a thousand pieces!"

Anna closes her eyes and breathes, calming the ire thrumming in her veins. "Fine," she says, putting the phone back and zipping the pocket. As much as she hates complying, her cell phone is the only league technology she retains. No phone company, no bill, an ever changing phone number, massive security features and access to unlimited everything on dozens of planets. Calhoun could have cut Anna's access the moment the fallen hero left the league, but for a reason Arson can't fathom, the AI refuses. Doesn't stop Calhoun from using it as leverage, though.

A tiny night terror swoops in, landing on King's shoulder with one foot and holding onto a transponder in the other.

"Thank you," King murmurs, taking the transponder and looking it over, as if he's only used it a handful of times. Based on the primitive technology Berk uses, he probably hasn't.

The night terror squawks, flutters his wings and flies off.

Raising an eyebrow, Anna says, "Button on the left side, at the bottom. It should turn on a green light to signify open communications." Axe glares at her, and Anna shrugs. "What?" she asks. "It's fucking painful watching him struggle with that ancient piece of sh—"

" _Ah, finally_ ," the woman on the other end of the line says. " _I'm speaking to the Dragon King, I'm assuming?_ " Anna's eyebrows fall into an unamused line.

"I ignore you for five minutes and you go calling the people I'm with?" Anna accuses. "You are the creepiest fucking stalker I have ever had."

" _If you hadn't of hung up on me I wouldn't to be one_ ," Calhoun drawls. " _I'm calling under Earth's Protector League authority_ ," she says to King, " _because I need use of Arson's web of contacts_." King and Axe straighten in surprise. Anna scoffs.

"And why the hell do you think I'll help you?" the redhead asks, barking a condescending laugh. "Last I recall, the metahumans you house hate my guts."

" _Like that's any different from how the rest of the galaxy feels about you_ ," Calhoun says, voice flat and unimpressed.

"Rude," Anna mutters, crossing her arms over her chest.

" _Also there is no question of whether you will or will not help me_ ," the AI continues. " _You will, or else I will become your worst nightmare_."

"No you wouldn't," Anna rebuttals. _You can't be without my authorization_ , she thinks.

" _Arson_ ," Calhoun says, with forced patience, " _everyone has their fears. It's just a matter of figuring which one you can use, and exploiting it_."

 _Son of a bitch_ , Anna thinks, fingers curling into fists. "Fine," Anna relents. She doesn't want to take risks when Calhoun is involved, not with the resources the AI has access to. "I'll help you if you convince King to get me back to Earth. Immediately."

Axe laughs. So does Calhoun.

" _Pray tell, why would I do that?_ " the AI asks.

"Protocol zero dash five THF," Anna says, and Calhoun goes silent. The redhead can't help a bitter smile, fed by the foreign cackling bouncing in her skull. Exploiting weaknesses, indeed.

" _Dragon King_ ," Calhoun says, voice stiff, " _under emergency league procedure you are obligated to escort Arson at top speed into a league emergency bunker. If you do not, you will take the unfiltered blame for the consequences, no matter your state of life. Arson_ ," she adds, changing her addressee, " _if I still had a body I would pummel you for incompetence_."

"Do it after we stave off the impending crises," Anna dismisses, turning to the King, expectant. "So, are you flying me home or is trigger happy?"


	4. The Reasons We Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [itsnotkristoff](http://itsnotkristoff.tumblr.com/) (tumblr) for fixing all the stupid errors I make.

Almost Four Years Ago 

Arson smashes Elsa's face against her knee, shattering the blond's helm and dislocating her jaw. Elsa reforms the piece of armour as she staggers away, leaving space for her hand to slip underneath. Arson barks a sadistic laugh.

"What's the matter, Blizzard?" Arson mocks. "You don't want the _hero of the people_ knowing what you look like? Do you think I'll figure out who you are, who your friends are? Well," the fallen hero cackles, "I hate to break it to y— _oof!_ "

Elsa tackles her idol to the ground, shoving her icy shoulder guard into the meta-human's diaphragm. Arson wheezes, her silver streaked pupils narrowing into pinpricks as she crashes, the back of her head smashing against the pavement. Elsa pulls her jaw back into place with a bone grinding _crack_.

"Shut up!" Elsa roars, driving her ice hardened knuckles into the fire-superpower's throat. "You don't get to speak," she snarls, all the while fighting tears of loss that claw against the inside of her ribs. This wasn't how she and Arson were supposed to meet. It wasn't supposed to be under these circumstances.

Arson cackles, the noise metallic sounding through the villain's new mask. "Oh I'm sorry," she rasps, fighting the damage to her windpipe, "are you under the impression that you have a say in the matter?" In a split second, Elsa is on her back, Arson's fingers vice-gripped around her throat. "Let me remedy that," the former hero rumbles, swinging Elsa in an upward arc and slamming her into the cement on the other side of her, sending cracks throughout the foundation of the street.

Blood sputters from Elsa's lips, coating the inside of her helm. Arson uses her free hand to rub at the life fluid from the other side of the ice.

"If that's all it takes to make you spit blood," Arson murmurs, "then I'm afraid you'll be in one sorry state once I'm done with you."

Fear spikes Elsa's heart rate and she struggles futilely in the villain's grip, her breath shallowing into short, sharp puffs.

"No need to make this easy for me," Arson laughs, but her eyebrows furrow in contrast to her mood. "I might have to pay Shadow and the General a visit," she murmurs, slamming her free hand into Elsa's side, sending cracks through the icy armour, "sending baby heroes on suicide runs is unseemly." Arson shrugs. "Oh well," she airs, raising both hands in the air and curling her fingers, "not my problem."

Elsa's vision blacks when Arson's fists crush her chest plate, break her ribs. Air rushes past her lips in a wheeze, and refuses to return. Her ears ring. She loses feeling her arms, her legs. Her muscles feel like melted rubber.

"I'll make it quick," a distant, haunting voice says, followed by the crackle of concentrated fire. "It's the least I can do," the woman says again, quieter, before pain flares above Elsa's left breast.

Blizzard tries to scream, tries to move – but her state refuses to let her respond. She feels something slicing through her armour, her skin, her ribs. It sends white-hot pain from her head to her toes, but she's helpless to stop it.

Then, it's gone.

Over the minutes it takes for Elsa's senses to recover, the sound of fighting becomes clearer. The scuffle is over, however, by the time she regains her sight. The General and Shadow kneel on either side of her, assessing the cauterized wound hollowed above Elsa's breast. The blond tilts her head back, tears pricking in her eyes, refusing to look at it. But what she sees instead almost stops her heart, and her body jerks in response.

"Keep still," the General says, his voice low. "We drove Arson away and transport is almost here with Golden Flower. You're safe now."

Still, Elsa's heart stutters, eyes widening as she stares at the two pricks of silver hiding at the top of a nearby building, standing out from the city sky backdrop.

 _Shadow and the General don't know Arson's still here_ , Elsa realises, her breath turning quick and shallow. _She could kill all three of us right now, and none of us would be able to do a damn thing about it_. The meta-humans beside her think she's going into shock, and try to calm her. It only makes the blond burst into tears. Where's her voice when she fucking needs it?

In a blink of the eye the dual silver glow is gone, but Arson's outline remains. The outline shakes their head, holds a hand to their temple and staggers out of Elsa's line of sight. While the immediate danger has passed, the lack of retaliation leaves more questions than answers; and the blond can't help but wonder, _What changed?_

Then again, maybe it's better if she doesn't know. Nothing good will come out of getting her hopes up. Not when it comes to Arson.

* * *

Present Day 

"You have to know something!" Elsa spits, grabbing Scar by the collar of his outfit and twisting, tightening the fabric around his throat. "You are the mastermind of the criminal world—"

"—One of—"

"— _Nothing_ like this could have been done without you knowing about it," Elsa snarls, eyes narrowing.

Scar, a former junior league member, has an IQ as high as Belle's. He used to be the league's 'decryption' before he went insane and turned into a villain, around the same time Arson made her debut. The exact details of _why_ Scar lost his sanity are locked in Calhoun's blackout zone. The irony isn't lost on the leaguers.

"You need the information inside my head?" Scar asks, with a grin. "Get Allure down here. I'm sure she'll enjoy trampling through my mind again."

Elsa's lips tighten. The last time Esmeralda used her psychic link to search Scar's memories, she almost didn't come back out. Not because she would have physically died, like what could've happened when she invaded Arson's mind, but because Scar is so intelligent he very nearly trapped her consciousness inside of himself. And since he's too smart to leave a digital evidence of the knowledge inside his head, the only way to get it is by forcing it out of him.

 _Which is damn near impossible_ , Elsa thinks, ice crackling over the back ally trash.

Whatever happened to Scar to make him renounce the hero ways made him impervious to anything Elsa has ever dished out. She doubts even stooping to villain tactics would get her the information she needs to find her parents.

Scar grins. "Getting agitated?" he taunts, running his toe through the frost on the ground. "You should learn to control yourself, lest you turn out like me." He smirks. "Unless that's what you want?"

"This is pointless," Mulan says, materializing behind the winter hero. "I saw the state he was in when—" the oriental grits her teeth, the muscles in her jaw bulging. "When he was rescued by the old elites," she finishes, nostrils flaring. Scar scowls.

"Yes," the former leaguer murmurs, "and what a day that was."

Elsa frowns, eyes flicking between the old companions. The blond can't hope to guess what trials they went through together, but the agreement to keep silent about them reignssupreme even on opposite sides. What could have been so bad that not even a side change could make either break their silence?

Elsa's almost tempted to convince Esmeralda to search the minds of Mulan, Shang and Jane, but she refuses to stoop that low. She has to trust her teammate's judgement, whether she agrees with them or not.

"What does that have to do with my parents?" Elsa asks, when Mulan doesn't continue. The Asian shrugs, but offers no concrete explanation.

"Try if you feel you must," Mulan says, slipping back into the shadows. "I'll see you back at the base."

Scar huffs, and says, "Mulan always was a weirdo, wasn— oof!" the meta-human wheezes when Elsa drives an ice-covered knee into Scar's groin.

"Her name is Shadow," Elsa growls. "Do you understand me?"

"Sorry," Scar rasps, "I couldn't hear you over the sound of you licking Mulan's c—"

Elsa smashes Scar's back into a dumpster. " _Shadow_ ," she repeats, her lips curling into a scowl. "Her name is Shadow."

Scar smiles, his eyes flashing. "And?" the man laughs, his voice returning to a semi-regular register.

"And," another voice rumbles, from above, "no one wants their true identity revealed to the wrong people. Wouldn't you agree, _Scar?_ "

Scar visibly pales. Elsa's eyes pinch. That's not a voice she wanted to hear anytime soon.

 _Thump_. Arson lands on the side of the dumpster not overflowing with garbage, the illuminated red lines of her uniform fading as her powers revert to neutral again. "Tell the hero what she wants to know," Arson orders.

Elsa blinks, and she side eyes her arch rival. What game is the villain playing at?

Scar cackles. "Are you trying the hero kick again?" he asks. "That didn't go so well last time."

Arson's eyes narrow. "Tell Blizzard the location of her parents," she commands, fingers twitching.

"Why should I?" Scar asks, his voice strong but his body wracked with miniature trimmers.

Arson hums, the haunting sound echoing through the alley. She crouches, picking up a crushed beer can between two fingers. "There are fates worse than death," she says, the red lines and her emblem flaring to life on her glove as the can contorts, sags, and drips back into the dumpster. "You should know that," she murmurs, locking eyes with the male villain. "You, of all people," Arson rumbles, meaning—and warning—shining in her irises.

Scar swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing with the harsh motion. "You wouldn't," he says. "I know you."

"In a way, yes," Arson concedes, "but I happen to have a suppressant on me." She pulls an EpiPen type device from a protected pocket and holds it on display. The corners of her eyes crinkle in sick amusement. "Do you think I won't do it now?" she asks, with a chortle. "I can't imagine it would take much."

"I could tell the league how you destroyed the Ambassador fleet," Scar warns, teeth clenching. "I could tell them all the connections related to it."

"You could," Arson allows, "but you won't. Not because you're not willing to, but because you physically can't." She picks up another can, crushing it into a ball in her hands. "At least," she backtracks, examining the aluminium in her palm, "you won't physically be able to in a second."

Scar chokes a scream, and the smell of burning flesh assaults Elsa's nose. She glances down, her stomach turning at the sight of the man's arms burning from the inside out. The blond's head snaps up at a muffled shriek, her lunch threatening to come back up at the sight of Arson locking Scar's jaw into place, smoke puffing from between his lips.

"The aluminum will start burning down to your stomach and your lungs," Arson says, calmly raising a finger in a 'wait' gesture when Elsa moves to retaliate. "I'll stop it before it can kill you, but it will hurt," the redhead continues. "Then, because I made a promise, I will take you and torture you in the only way that matters for as long as I desire before offering you a onetime choice: be healed and tell Blizzard what she wants to know, or live with what you've become. Mentally and physically crippled. Alternatively," Arson says, holding Elsa at bay with her foot, "you could agree right here, right now, and avoid the whole ordeal. What do you say?"

His head stuck in Arson's superhuman hold, Scar tries and fails to move his head.

"Well that's a pity," the redhead mumbles, sending Elsa a warning look when the temperature drops. "But maybe it's for the best," Arson sighs, "after all, I'd have to it anyway if you revealed anything about me. Think of it, Scar," she whispers, putting her mask to the genius's ear, "my meta-human powers outmatch almost everyone in the universe, and yet I control myself with revealing your name; something so petty I shouldn't even bother myself with it, but I do. So tell me, will you extend to me the same curtsy?" She loosens her hold. Scar nods, tears streaming from his eyes, smoke still bellowing from his mouth. "Good," Arson says, and the red lines of her uniform, indicating the use of her fire, die away. "Will you tell Blizzard everything she wants to know about her parents?" Scar nods again. Arson releases him into Elsa's waiting arms.

"There you go, Blizzard," Arson says, "everything you've wanted delivered to you on a silver platter." She stands, looming over the hero from her position on the dumpster. Elsa's heart stutters, the angle far too familiar with her first near-death experience with the villain. "Remember that the next time you accuse me," Arson says, the red lines on her combats lighting up.

"Wait!" Elsa cries, before her rival can take flight. Arson raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything. All of a sudden, Elsa's tongue feels like lead, and she swallows. "Why did you help me?" she asks. It might not have been the type of help she wanted, but it was the type she got. The type she needed.

Arson shrugs. "I owed someone a favour," she says, waving her hand in a vague gesture. "I suggest calling the league," she adds, before Elsa can question her further. "Scar doesn't look so hot." Cackling at her own joke, Arson takes to the sky, leaving Elsa to blink the light flares out of her vision.

"Owed someone a favour," the blond mocks, lying Scar in a bed of soft snow before dissipating the armour beside the relevant pocket and pulling out her cell. "Anyone Arson fucking owes is dead," she murmurs, punching in the league's number and frequency code by heart.

Scar, in too much pain to remember any of this with any sort of clarity, is inclined to disagree. Arson owes the universe for what she's done, just like Scar does.

But the world doesn't need to know that.


	5. The Things We Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [itsnotkristoff ](http://itsnotkristoff.tumblr.com/)(tumblr) for fixing all the stupid errors I make.

Four Years Ago 

Arson cackles, wiping dust from her shoulder as she circles Black Dragon, the fire-superpower's irises glowing a smoking red, her pupils a silver streaked black.

"Your friends are dead," Anna chortles, the sound grating and cold. "Whatever shall you do now, facing me alone?"

Black Dragon scowls, her fangs glinting in the warning lights flashing throughout the Ambassador ship. "They were your friends, too," she growls, her hands balling into fists. "I don't know what atrocities they forced you to endure here, but not even you could have forgotten that."

Anna smiles, pulling her mask until it hangs around her neck. "They were my friends," Anna concedes, her tone as slick as oil, "but that was a long time ago, before"—the muscles in her jaw jump—"everything. I have to say you aged well," she averts, with a dark grin, "you must be well into your eights by now, traitor."

Black Dragon's features fall slack. "Eigh— Arson," the dragon shifter says, her throat tightening, "I'm only forty-two."

"Sure," Anna shrugs, "whatever helps you sleep at night."

The Ambassador ship groans as it tilts. Gravity disables for a second before reengaging. Black Dragon holds strong in her position; Anna stumbles, then grins.

"I must have done more damage than I thought when I forced my way into this ship and took out Bear," Anna cackles. "How exhilarating."

Black Dragon grits her teeth, refusing to rise to the bait. "You're better than this, Anna," she says. Under her breath, too soft to hear, she whispers, "You made _me_ better than this."

Anna's nostrils flare. "Oh, I'm sorry, Maleficent, but excuse me if I don't believe the woman who slaughtered entire colonies without any more reason than _wanting to_."

"Like what you're doing is any different," Black Dragon retorts, scowling at the reminder.

"What I am doing is _justice_ ," Anna spits, the silver in her pupils flashing. "You elites ruined _everything_ by following Athena when you saw what she made me become! She _lied_ to you and you were too blind to see it!"

Black Dragon pauses, the gears in her head grinding to a halt. "You are part of the Protector elites," she says, words slow, trying to process the information provided in something— _anything_ —comprehendible.

"No," Anna snarls, "I _used_ to be. I've spent years trying to take you corrupt lot down," she smiles – all teeth and no mirth, "this is the first time you all dropped your defenses enough to let me rip you apart."

Everything clicks in Black Dragon's mind. The Ambassador's abundance of scientists. The assault on Calhoun's system. Scar's state after his kidnapping. Hades' state minutes before when Black Dragon released him. Anna's state now.

"Oh no," Black Dragon croaks. "Anna," she says, panic bleeding into her bones, "you have to listen to me, alright? What you think you know, it's not real."

Anna's smile morphs into a twisted grin. "Perhaps," she allows. "Everyone's memory is biased. But people change over time. Their goals change. Their morals shift." She laughs, menacing. "I feel mine shifting right now," she says, throwing a swing to her step as she struts around the human-shaped dragon. "There's an island on Earth," she says, running her finger along a row of consoles, "where seals formed a learned habit of raping penguins before eating them." Anna's irises flash. Her grin turns demonic. "Isn't it ironic how animals copy humans, and how we copy them in turn?"

Black Dragon pales, allows her heart to thump once in fear, then activates her stand-by genes.

"Oh no you don't," Anna murmurs, blasting herself forward. She pins Black Dragon against the floor, her red eyes glowing as bright as LED lights. Anna grins; sliver laced black fire burning at the back of her throat, smoke rolling up the curves of her face from the corners of her mouth. "I'd prefer if you didn't fight," she rumbles, leaning in and locking their lips; breathes the smoke into Black Dragon's mouth.

Maleficent flails, trying to scream and overpower the woman above her, but her dragon DNA didn't have the time to fully actualize. So the black fumes, the only thing Black Dragon has ever feared, reaches her lungs, seeps into her blood. Her mind fogs, her body contorts and, when Anna's lips release hers, she _shrieks_.

Anna throws her head back, bellowing with laughter. "There's no one left to hear you!" she cackles. "Athena is dead. Bear is dead. Hades is insane. _I'm_ insane. And the junior leaguers?" She laughs. "Forget it! I could kill them with the flick of my pinkie finger. But we've always known that, haven't we? None of us were called 'elite' for nothing. It's why we're the unspoken names on the board."

Black Dragon twists and hollers, her muscles twisting, knotting; her brain functions distorting.

Anna straddles the tortured woman's hips, humming as she slips her hands under Black Dragon's bulletproof shirt, runs her fingers across the soft skin, the rippling muscles. "I've always wanted to do this," she breathes, flipping Maleficent on her stomach; lifts her rear until it's flush with the redhead's hips. Anna groans. "I hope you like cigarette burns," she says, rumbling a dark laugh as the pads of her fingers heat up.

Maleficent grits her teeth, hoping beyond all hope that the black fumes deteriorate her senses so she can be oblivious to the horror her friend will soon inflict on her.

But she's never been that lucky.

* * *

Present Day

"I warned you, Sea Witch," Anna drones, examining her fingernails with hope—any hope—that it will alleviate her boredom.

The bigger woman snarls. "You don't own all the underground networks of the universe," she spits.

"I might as well," Anna yawns, heating the chains tied around the alien's body. "Listen," she says, looking down at the woman she holds over a pit of red-hot spikes, "I don't want to do this anymore than you want me doing this. You are a waste of my time and I'd rather you stay off my radar enough to keep it that way." She jingles her end of the chain, making the gray-skinned woman swing back and forth. "Do you understand me?" Anna asks. "Or will my super strength mysteriously not be enough to hold your fat ass anymore?"

"I'm too valuable to your off-world operations," Sea Witch growls, struggling against her restraints. "Killing me would set you back by a decade."

"Pray tell when I've ever given a shit about any of that," Anna deadpans. "There are a scarce number of things I care about, and neither the efficiency of the villain underground nor my reputation are a part of them. Now let's please get this farce over with before I fall asleep and drop you. You dying when I can't watch with popcorn is a waste of your entertainment value."

The Sea Witch clenches her teeth. Anna fights the urge to sigh. Out of all the pig-headed idiots she had to deal with today, she had to end it with the most tedious.

"Fucking hell," Anna mutters, letting part of the chain slip through her fingers. The Sea Witch squawks, sweat pooling on her forehead as she stops inches away from the steaming hot spikes. "Just admit that I could do whatever I wanted to you, be happy that I'm not, and get your head on straight so we don't have to go through this again," Anna says, pinching the bridge of her nose. " _Please_ , for all that is holy, put your damn pride on the backburner to save your fucking life." _Literally_ , she thinks. It would be a funny thought if she wasn't so exasperated.

"Changing your clothes and putting your hair up into a bun instead of ridiculous braids doesn't overwrite years of defined hierarchy," the Sea Witch snarls, fighting against the chains binding her.

Anna's lips tauten into a hard line. Her hand on her end of the chain tightens, and she sends a spike of heat through it that leaves the wretched alien crying out. "My appearance wasn't the only thing that changed," Anna growls. The scent of burning flesh reaches her nose, and her nostrils curl. Maybe she should invest in a mask that does what it's supposed to.

 _No_ , she reminds herself, her eyebrows furrowing. _I gave up the right to care about my health_. The people around her are the only ones who matter now.

"Okay!" the Sea Witch croaks. "I consent!"

Anna barks a condescending laugh. "Really?" she cackles, whipping her arm with the chain and sending Sea Witch crashing into one of the warehouse walls. "Sorry, but I don't believe a manipulative liar's words at face value."

The Sea Witch spits up gray-tinged blue blood, smirking. Anna scowls.

"You know what I'm going to do?" Anna asks, rhetorical, as she flies over to the Sea Witch's new position. She remains hovering, refusing to cut her active fire to remind the water-controlling, tentacle-creating bitch just who she's facing. "I think I'll hand you over to Weselton labs," she says, barking a sadistic cackle. "The Weasel might be in prison, but I assure you his facilities are running as smooth as they always have. Maybe even more efficient now that the toupee-wearing blunder isn't hampering progress." Anna's eyes darken, and she levels the witch with a cold stare. "Perhaps their experiments can teach you what I have failed to."

All the Sea Witch's confidence flees, fear creeping into her eyes for the first time.

Anna grins, the corners of her eyes crinkling in sick amusement. "You know," she says, turning back to the spikes in the center of the floor, hissing and cracking as they cool down, "that sounds like something I should have done a long time ago."

The Sea Witch swallows, a lump rising in her throat. "No," she croaks, trying to scramble back and failing to do more than squirm within her steel restraints.

"Oh yes," Anna says in response, sending her pray a piercing stare. "You have proven none of your worth to me," she reprimands, "so I am moving you somewhere that you _can_ be of use."

"No!" the Sea Witch cries, a panicked whine starting at the back of her throat. "The experiments at Weselton labs—"

"Are monstrosities no more than us villains," Anna rebuttals. "With everything we've done, all the horror we've inflicted; that karma comes back on everyone eventually. I'm merely . . . accelerating your schedule."

"If you do this to me you're no better than the rest of us!" the Sea Witch screeches, hysterical.

"Haven't you been paying attention?" Anna bellows over the other villain's cries. "I am _worse_ than the rest of you! I am worse than Scar, the War Machine, the Headless Horseman, the Beast Master, Ares, and _any other villain_ you can think of because _I murdered the only people who ever mattered!_ And you know what the fucked up thing is?" Inside her heart aches, her chest clenches, but outwardly she looks grim, dangerous. "I _wanted_ to kill them," she snarls, "and I _enjoyed_ it. I enjoyed _tearing my friends apart_. If I took pleasure in that, what hope do you think _you_ have?" A pause. "That's right, you fucking fish," Anna spits, lowering herself to the ground and grabbing the end of the chain hog-tie. "Now let's go."

"You'll regret this!" the Sea Witch screams.

 _I regret a lot of things_ , Anna thinks, taking to the sky once more. She pushes her fire out harsher to keep afloat with her cumbersome package. _But getting you off the street isn't one of them_.

The Sea Witch spews her mouth the entire journey to the closest lab, over two-hundred kilometers away. To Anna's surprise and amusement, no member of the Protector League shows up to stop her. Either Calhoun is blocking the knowledge from reaching the League, or the members themselves are turning a blind eye to the villain's squabble. No matter which is the truth, Anna laughs when she lands on a Weselton lab helipad and hands over the Sea Witch to her new jailers. It seems not even heroes care about everyone.

Anna pauses at the thought, watching with absent attention as the alien villain gets dragged away, into the depths of a human-created hell.

"Not all heroes care about everyone," Anna murmurs, mulling over the words. That was certainly true with the old elites—and the thought of them makes the villain's chest clench—but the new Leaguers? They're different. Softer. They can't make the same types of choices the old heroes could; the necessary ones that nobody wishes they'd ever have to make.

 _Not that I could make them as easily as they could_ , Anna concedes, taking to the sky once more.

Under differing circumstances, any of the old elites could have been considered villains. Even Calhoun, the meta-alien from the—now destroyed—planet Hero's Duty, would have a scarred reputation if anyone knew about the events that occurred in her life; or if anyone still living was aware Athena and Black Dragon hooked up the alien's dying body to make her mind the League's new 'AI.' Even the Bear had black marks on her reputation.

Maybe that's why Anna was made leader of the small band, to keep their morals in check. In a way she succeeded; she curbed Black Dragon's streaks of cold-blooded murder and turned her to the side of heroes; she allowed Hades to see the good in humanity again; she reaffirmed hope in Athena when the woman herself gave up; she made Bear believe in the better half of human nature.

If they could see Anna now, now that she turned out worse than all of them combined, what would they think? What would they say?

Anna's throat tightens, memories of the brutal slaughter of her team assaulting her mind. They're events she can't change, or avenge, or make right. She can't obtain vengeance on herself.

"Damn it," Anna hisses, landing in a nearby field. She grips her head with both hands. "Go away, go away, _go away_ ," she hisses, trying to force the images out of her head. The grass around her feet crackles, burns.

 _Athena's body crumbles to the ground, her face unrecognizable_.

"Stop," Anna begs, with a cracking voice and tears stinging her eyes.

 _Bear drags herself along the debris-laden floor with her arms, her legs twisted and shattered beyond repair_.

" _Stop, please!_ " Anna bellows, staggering and sucking in uneven gulps of air.

 _Black Dragon stares up at the ceiling with clenched teeth and watery eyes, muffled screams trying to force their way out of her burnt throat_.

Anna keels over, ripping off her mask and throwing up the contents of her minimal lunch.

_Hades eyes widen, fear sparking in his dilution-ridden expression. He opens his mouth to scream—_

"S-stop," Anna sobs, tears rolling her cheeks. She buries her face in her hands and curls into the fetal position. "What else do I have to do to?" she asks to empty air. Not even an insect responds. "I didn't mean to," she whimpers, but that doesn't matter. Not anymore.

With gritted teeth, Anna pushes to her knees and grabs her mask. She can't deal with this right now; these memories, this life. With a flash of white fire Anna rockets back into the sky, changing her destination completely. She lands less than a half hour later, entering a secure bunker that not even Calhoun knows about.

Anna throws her mask to the side, quirking a mirthless smile at the sound of the entry door hissing shut behind her. Anna and Athena combined wouldn't have be able to get out of or into this place. They tried.

The redhead's smile falls at the reminder. This used to be both her and Jennifer's contingency bunker, before the Ambassador incident. Anna's chest clenches. The place still smells of the other woman, if faintly.

Forcing a sigh through clenched teeth, Anna forges through the series of small hallways and tiny rooms, until she reaches an average sized room that was once meant for her equipment. The one across the hall was for Jennifer's; Anna could take some supplies from that room too, if she had the heart—surely they were better than her own—but she doesn't. She still can't even bear to open the door at the end of the hall, even just to look in. The reminder of what her and Jennifer used to be is painful enough without visual evidence; without raiding her only remaining effects.

Anna sheds her outfit, arranging it as neatly as she cares on an emptymannequin. The mannequin beside it stands in stark contrast, housing her old hero costume. What an ugly thing it was, too. Or perhaps it's her new costume that's the ugly one.

With a sigh, she trudges to the closet, picking out a pair of plain black socks, black cargo pants and a plain bluish-gray t-shirt along with one of the small to-go backpacks—the one sitting over the label _Canada_ —already packed with essentials. She changes and slings one of the straps over her shoulder, grabbing a small bottle of rum on her way out of the room. She's going to need it.

Anna heads straight to a small, out-of-the-way storage room, no bigger than a small janitor's closet, and shuts herself in. The motion activated overhead light flicks on, and Anna turns slowly, careful not to hit the backpack off anything in the small space. She places her thumb on an unassuming part on the wall, and says, "Authorization zero dash five. Activate code two, section five, in TP protocol code green."

There is no verbal response, no beep, no warning. Just one moment of Anna staring at a blank white wall in a small, almost-empty storage room, and the next she's staring at an equally blank white wall in minimally furnished living room in an open-concept apartment. She glances around, noting the layer of dust, before walking over to the balcony doors and peaking out the curtain, confirming her location.

"Safe house number two, Canada," Anna murmurs, pleased. While Jennifer's teleportation ability couldn't be tapped into consciously like her brother's hell gates, she was able to harness the skill into a quiet, unassuming AI in secret; a secret she let Anna in on when they created the contingency bunker together. It worked out for the both of them; Anna got access to easy transportation, and the AI—and Jennifer's ability in turn—was equipped with the redhead's ultimate defense system, the same one equipped to Calhoun. No one short of Anna herself could hack into Chel or Calhoun's mainframes, and even she would be reluctant to endure the pain required to do so.

Setting her bag down in a way to not disturb the dust, Anna opens her bottle of rum and takes a swig, relishing in the sweet burn at the back of her throat – one of the only type of burns she _can_ feel.

"What an ugly place," the villain murmurs, downing another mouthful of alcohol before moving to clean her temporary home, silently resolving to buy—steal—some paint later in the week to make the place less depressing. There's no need for the apartment to look as miserable as she feels.


	6. Missions Founded in Failure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [itsnotkristoff](http://itsnotkristoff.tumblr.com/) (tumblr) for fixing all the stupid errors I make.

Three and a Half Years Ago

The Protector League briefing room is brightly lit, with appropriate furnishing placed in optimal positions around the space. Still, the current Leaguers mull around in frustration, uncomfortable and uneasy in their relatively new surroundings.

Shang and Mulan lean against the wall on the outskirts of the room, eying the three new members—Blizzard, Golden Flower and Allure—and Jane, who grits her teeth in the corner.

Blizzard, covered head to toe in icy armour, had been the first to arrive to the open recruitment when the old elites perished. While inexperienced, she had scoped out the area before allowing Golden Flower—dressed in her own brand of brightly coloured medic armour, her face half covered by a simple respirator planted with her symbol—into the area. They had both agreed to join that day, but Blizzard had appeared to out of concern with her friend's safety rather than the current state of affairs.

Allure, on the other hand, had showed up several weeks later, after the Blizzard verses Arson incident. Unlike Allure's meta-human counterparts, she didn't wear a costume, or cover her features, or try to mask her true identity in any way, shape or form. She just showed up one day in jeans and a white, purple and gold hooded double breasted sweater asking, 'This is where I sign up to fight evil bastards, right?' Despite this, none of the leaguers are privy to her name, and Calhoun refused to be much help in the matter.

This lack of trust splits the team into three defined sections – the old junior leaguers, Blizzard and Golden Flower, and Allure as a lone wolf. While each section cooperates with one another, every attempt to lump them together has been dismissed.

 _Five months_ , Mulan thinks, glancing around the room. That's how long it's been since everything she used to know changed into . . . this. Since the junior leaguers were forced into accepting positions of leadership they were unprepared for, facing off against their patron with untrained, and uncooperative, protégés.

Secretly, Mulan wonders if this is what hell fells like.

"Okay, everyone," Mulan says, taking stance at the foreign place at the front of the room; the area only the old elites used to stand. "As you know, crime rates have spiked through the charts over the past couple of months." Bitter murmuring fills the silence. "This has a lot to do with Arson," Mulan continues, wincing as Calhoun manifests a monitor behind her, showing the new-and-improved Arson in all her glory. "Arson is encouraging villains and villainous acts and, having blatantly shown the world that no one can stop her, people are flocking to her in drones.

"In saying that," Mulan says, louder, before arguments can break out, "Arson's own violent activity has been on a steady decrease ever since her debut—"

"You mean after Blizzard decided to pick a fight with her," Allure, the gypsy woman, mutters. Blizzard, for her credit, only hardens her eyes in response.

"— _and right now_ ," Mulan continues, "her activity is simmering at an all-time low; still around, but absent in direct conflict." She wants to add that Arson's activity as an elite had never dropped this low, but it's still too soon to poke at that sore spot.

"What do you suggest?" Golden Flower asks, running a hand through her short brown hair.

"I suggest"—Mulan pauses, searching for the right word—" _disabling_ her."

The room stills, tense silence taking residence in the air.

Jane frowns. "We're hardly in a position to move against her," she says, words slow. She scratches her bicep, a nervous quiver to her hand. "She took out us three as easily as she beat Blizzard into the ground."

"I agree with Tarzan," Allure says, chewing on a wad of gum. "Arson wasn't an elite for nothing. Hell," she spits, gritting her teeth, "she took out _Athena_ , of all meta-humans, so what chance do _we_ have to take her out before she retaliates like she threatened?"

Mulan hums. "I don't think the old elites were prepared," she murmurs, memory flashing back to an argument she overheard between Athena, Black Dragon and Bear.

" _We have no idea what they did to him," Black Dragon hisses. "But if this is what happens after just two days of exposure, how do you think Hades and Arson will fair?"_

" _It's not a guarantee that they've been subdued," Athena refutes. "It's a trivial hope, I know, but we have to wish for the best."_

" _We need to prepare for the worst," Black Dragon snarls. "There's no telling how those two will react to whatever_ treatment _Scar was subjected to."_

" _Stop," Athena growls, her voice tight. "This is Hades and Arson you're talking about."_

" _Obviously," Black Dragon snaps._

" _I can't lose them!" Athena hisses, breath coming out in wavering, angry puffs._

" _Both of you, please, calm down," Bear interjects. "Athena," she says, softer, "I know how much those two mean to you, but Black Dragon's right – if something . . . compromises our friends—"_

_A harsh sob cuts the sentence short. Bear's voice quiets, turning into murmured reassurances._

_Mulan leaves, unwilling to hear the mighty Athena break down_.

Mulan shakes out of her thoughts. "I have the feeling that the old elites were taken out individually," she says. "I ran through every possibility, and the only one that makes sense is if Arson battled each of them one-on-one, like she had in the broadcast with Hades."

"That's great," Allure drawls, "but the six of us combined make up one of them."

"True," Mulan relents, "but we have an advantage the old elites never had."

"And what's that?" Allure asks, unimpressed.

Without a word, Mulan points to Allure. The gypsy woman freezes.

"What?" Allure chokes.

Shang steps forward. "There are different stages to your powers," he explains. "You can read minds and implant suggestions to make people feel or think a certain way. You can make people love you or hate you, for a time – but in order to make it work you have to figure out the triggers of the person you're working on as you go. The next stage, which eliminates that struggle, is mind control or outright disabling mental functions with your physic links."

Allure bursts into loud, anxious laughter. "You want me to take over Arson's mind?" she cackles, crossing her arms over her chest to hide the shaking of her arms.

"Or at least overwhelm her with an intense need to be compliant, yes," Shang says. "All of the old elites created subduing items for themselves to use in worst case scenarios. All we need is to get close enough to Arson to actually put them on her."

Blizzard glances between Shang and Allure, who has turned as white as a sheet – quite a feat for the tanned woman. "What are Arson's items?" the icy blond asks, taking the direct pressure off her teammate.

The screen behind Mulan changes from Arson and her new outfit to two items – a slim metal mask and a neck clamp.

"These are Arson's items," Calhoun says, through the room's multiple speakers. "The neck clamp prevents her brain from supplying her body with the necessary chemicals she needs for super strength and manifesting heat or fire. The mask prevents her from using the fire and fumes she produces at the back of her throat; it doesn't stop her from accessing those powers, but it disables her from using them."

"Why didn't the old elites have these items on them when they fought Arson six months ago?" Golden Flower asks.

"Arson, while the leader of the old elites, was not the most powerful," Calhoun answers, startling most occupants in the room. "If going on raw superhuman abilities and experience alone, Athena and Hades were the most powerful, followed by Black Dragon, Arson and Bear in close succession. In most of the training sessions the old elites had, Arson was only the victor a tenth of the time. In saying that," Calhoun relents, "the team had brought along Arson's suppression mask and Hades' suppression armlets when they suspected confrontation was imitate. They just didn't get the chance to use them."

Blizzard frowns. "Why just the mask?" she asks.

"That information is classified," Calhoun says.

Golden Flower hums. "A lot of things are classified, it seems," she says.

"You have no idea," Mulan murmurs to herself, but loud enough to hear. She clears her throat. "The items the old elites brought with them were never returned—as you can imagine—but each elite had three individual sets, which means we still have two complete sets for Arson."

"And one extra neck clamp," Blizzard whispers, eyebrows furrowing. She glances to the projected monitor. "Why did they deem the mask more important than the clamp? It doesn't make any sense."

"Nothing about the old elites make any sense," Jane spits, bitter. "Even now," she laughs, gesturing around her. "We are the new full members of the Protector League and our access to Calhoun's database is pitiful! Barely more than our access as junior leaguers."

"Stop," Shang snaps, his eyes narrowing behind his gladiator mask. "We can't change the restrictions the old elites put in the system," he continues, softer, "but we _can_ change Arson's impact on the world." His gaze flicks to Allure. "If you help us."

Allure forces out a shaky breath, running her fingers through her bangs. "I've never attempted mind control, or at least never accomplished it," she says, with a detrimental smile. "When surface suggestions don't work and you have to plant them deep into someone's mind, they are able to touch the part of you inside of them just like you're touching them. If they know what they're doing, they can plant suggestions inside of me instead." Her smile falls, replaced with a light-lipped line. "I can protect myself only against a will equal or less than mine. If I try against a will greater than mine, and they know how to counter suggest, they could end up controlling me instead."

Shang hums, thoughtful. "I doubt Arson—"

"Shh," Mulan interrupts, giving her partner a look from beneath her black half-face mask, covering her forehead to her nose. "We may have worked under Arson on occasion," she says, "but that doesn't mean we know anything about her or what she's capable of."

Blizzard, still analyzing Arson's suppression items, murmurs, "Black fire." Golden Flower, the only one close enough to hear, hums in question. Blizzard, making no visible indication that she heard, continues at the same volume with, "In the broadcast, when Arson took out Hades; she used black fire. Breathed it from her mouth."

Golden Flower glances to the suppression mask, still showing on the projected monitor. "Do you think that's what the old elites wanted to take out of the picture?" she asks in a low voice.

Blizzard tilts her head just enough to count as a nod. "Calhoun said it herself – Arson lost most bouts with her teammates, and yet she was able to wipe Hades off the face of the Earth with one attack," she explains. "If the suppression mask only takes away Arson's black fire ability, it goes to reason that her regular powers—the only ones we've had to deal with—weren't a major concern for the old elites. Formidable, sure, but manageable."

"And Arson's never used that ability on us," Golden Flower whispers, realization donning on her, "because she's never deemed us a big enough threat."

"Exactly," Blizzard hums, "and if we go with this plan and don't hide the suppression artifacts—"

"She could wipe us out in one fell swoop," Golden Flower finishes, eyes widening.

 _Please stop being so morbid_ , Allure scolds the pair, turning a shade paler.

Blizzard raises an eyebrow. _If you stopped reading our outer thoughts you wouldn't have to worry_ , she thinks, responding to the telepath. Golden Flower grins.

Mulan crosses her arms over her chest. "Have you two been communicating telepathically this whole time?" she asks, her eyebrows falling into an unamused line.

Golden Flower raises a hand. "The three of us," she corrects, with a catty grin no one can see.

"And you two are doing nothing to help my case, I see," Mulan says, nodding to Allure – the blood drained from her face and her crossed arms trembling.

Jane's eyes soften, and she leaves her corner to wrap Allure in a gentle side hug. "We're scared too, you know," Jane says, voice soft and comforting. She huffs a short laugh. "Arson would take over our junior league training whenever Athena or Bear had other obligations to attend to. When she would fight each of us, individually and as a team, she would beat us with a smile on her face. We couldn't see her lips, mind you, but you could see it in her eyes." She sighs through her nose, tilting her head to stare at the ceiling. "Her being a good sport about it made the defeats easier on us. Made the experiences more about learning than they were about winning.

"After she destroyed the fleet—" Jane swallows. "Scar was gone," she says, trying again. "He had ran off soon after the elites went after Arson and Hades, so when she showed up we were one person down and—" her voice cracks, and she grits her teeth. "She looked at us like pests," she spits, "but we had to fight her. We had to fight a woman we knew we could never beat when she was staring at us like she wanted to grind our skulls under the heel of her boot."

Allure uncrosses her arms and rests a hand over Jane's, the one gripping her shoulder in a white knuckle grasp.

Mulan sighs through her nose. "No decision needs to be made right now," she says, heading for the door, "but it's one we need to make, and soon."

* * *

Present Day

Elsa and Rapunzel exit the infirmary recovery room. Half the team stands in front of them, waiting for an update. Elsa sighs, walking towards the kitchen and dissolving her armour. Rapunzel pulls her mask around her neck. The group follows.

Belle, making a cup of tea, raises an eyebrow as she sees the team approach. "Done with Scar, I assume?" she asks.

Elsa nods, grabbing a cup from the cupboard, one with her snowflake emblem.

Belle raises an eyebrow. "Well?" she asks, watching Elsa turn on the kettle and grab a mint tea bag.

"He couldn't tell me much," Elsa answers, eyebrows furrowing. "Vague plans and such that will help me triangulate my parent's location and save them, but not who's behind it. Some of the players, sure, but not the mastermind."

"That's . . . disturbing," Belle says, with a frown. "Scar always knows everything."

"Not this time, it seems," Elsa murmurs, her gaze fixated on the kettle. "Which can't mean anything good." Rapunzel's eyebrows furrow, but she doesn't say anything. Elsa adds, "With your help, Belle, we can pinpoint my parents by tonight and launch an assault at night, if everything is favourable."

Shang leans against the fridge. "So long as we can get them back without assistance from Merida and Kida we can do it whenever," he says. "They ran into complications in Moscow."

"More like ran into each other," Megara says. "I told you, getting those two to cooperate is difficult enough without having them teamed in a duo mission."

"Well," Elsa murmurs, "I guess that was my intention to begin with, so I can't be too angry with them."

Shang raises an eyebrow. "You _wanted_ them to prolong their mission, and betted it would happen out of rivalry for each other?" he asks, skeptical.

"Yes," Elsa says, grabbing the kettle and pouring the hot water into her mug. "I needed Merida out of the way in case I decided I required . . . outside help." Belle and Megara wince.

"I'm glad you didn't go that way," Megara says. "Working with her screams disaster."

"But I did work with her, didn't I?" Elsa grits, gripping the handle of her mug. "If she hadn't of shown up and tortured Scar, if I had even tried to stop her, then we wouldn't have any of the information we have now."

Shang's face falls. "You were considering working with _Arson?_ " he asks, eyes wide.

"Yeah," Elsa says, barking a self-detrimental laugh. "Apparently I care more about my family than I do about the nightmares I get from the countless disasters on Arson's rap sheet." Her features turn morbid. "What a shit-show that would have been," she whispers.

Jane shifts in the entryway, unease marring her face. "How is Scar?" she asks, changing the topic. "I heard a number was done on him."

"He'll be fine physically," Rapunzel answers, with a morose smile. "I'm afraid I couldn't do anything for the physiological damages." She shrugs. "Either way, he'll be released the moment he's well; Calhoun said she'd escort him out without our assistance required. I didn't argue – it's not like Scar can access any of her functions without whiplash."

"No one can access Calhoun without whiplash period," Belle drawls, eyebrows falling into an unamused line.

"Don't blame the AI," Megara says, sitting on the counter. "It was the old elites who programmed her, and it was them who labelled a lot of the information as too dangerous for regular accessibility."

"Thank you, Hercules," Calhoun says from the walls.

"You're welcome," Megara replies, with a grin and a salute.

Belle grits her teeth, her knuckles white from the grip on her tea.

"So yeah," Elsa murmurs, dragging the conversation back to her. She turns to Belle. "I'll tell you what I know so you can—"

A short, five rhythm alarm blares through the base.

Shang pushes upright, eyes hardening as he glances around. "The code lights aren't activated," he mutters.

"Calhoun, what was that?" Jane asks, fingers twitching to her side, where her sword would have been had she of been in uniform.

"Nothing of concern," Calhoun hums. "I'm just being alerted of something . . . interesting."

Belle narrows her eyes. "Something 'interesting' doesn't tend to activate the base alarms unless it has to do with major activity or an attack," she scolds. "And don't you dare tell me this information is classified."

"It isn't," Calhoun says, "but it is sensitive. Please allow me to consult with the relevant league member."

Shang and Jane share a look.

"What? No! Calhoun!" Belle barks, cheeks and neck flushing. A hand covers her mug, and the information wiz blinks, meeting Megara's soft gaze. The jacked meta-human smiles.

"I was saving your tea," Megara says, amusement lacing her words. "It looked like you were about to throw it."

"I was thinking about it," Belle mutters, flicking her gaze away. Megara grins.

* * *

Mulan sits cross-legged on her bed, a book resting in her hands.

"Shadow," Calhoun says, breaking the silence. The oriental hums, expecting the interruption.

"I'm assuming this is about the alarm?" Mulan asks, resting a finger under the paragraph she left off.

"That would be correct," Calhoun concedes. "Anna Lehne has reappeared."

Mulan pauses; muscles freezing as she gives herself time to sort out the details.

Anna Lehne was an outside tech the old elites employed during Calhoun's original installation, before Scar became a junior leaguer. Even after he became a Protector superhero, Anna was still called in on occasion when the job required a higher access level than Scar possessed. Whether that level of security clearance has been retained Mulan isn't sure, but other than the old elites themselves, Anna has had the most access to Calhoun's system that Mulan has ever seen.

"Can you please summon Shang and Jane to my quarters?" Mulan asks, worrying her lip.

"Of course," Calhoun says. "Would you like me to be discrete?"

"If you can manage it," Mulan agrees, "but time is of the essence – so disregard being stealthy in favour of getting the pair here as fast as you can."

* * *

Belle hums. "It's not much, but I can roll with it," she says, flashing Elsa a smile. "Give me a couple hours, a day at the most and I'll have a location for you."

Elsa's shoulders sag in relief. "Thank you," she breathes, running her fingers through her hair.

"Anytime, boss," Belle jests, with a grin. Elsa raises an eyebrow and the brunette laughs, walking off in the direction of the control room.

Rapunzel sighs, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. "Thanks, Megara," she says, flashing the woman a grin. "For a moment there I thought Belle was going to blow a gasket."

"General and Justice, can you please make your way to Shadow's quarters," Calhoun relays, loud enough to hear but not loud enough to carry. Shang and Jane nod.

"On our way," Shang says, at the same time Jane replies:

"Got it."

Megara raises an eyebrow, watching the pair leave the kitchen. "If she had still been here to hear that she would have," she says, mirth shining in her eyes.

Rapunzel grins. "Which is why it was announced after she left, probably," she says. Her and Megara burst into laughter. Elsa raises an eyebrow at the display, taking an impassive sip of her tea.

* * *

Mulan paces the length of her room, running scenarios through her head as to how Anna would react if confronted by a league member. Debating whether or not the woman is the same one she remembers, or if she, too, was changed when the Ambassador ships burned.

Mulan's foot pauses mid step, a memory resurfacing with a wince.

Anna is definitely not the same person the Asian remembers. Not with Ath—

Knock knock.

"Come in," Mulan says, turning to the door as her fellow heroes file in.

"This has to do with the alarm, yeah?" Jane asks, sitting on the bed.

"Yeah," Mulan confirms, sitting on the empty end table in the corner of the room. "We have a decision to make."

Shang raises an eyebrow, remaining standing by the doorway. "A decision we, for some reason, can't pose to our teammates?" he asks.

"None of the others would understand the importance or, if they do, not the urgency," Mulan answers. "We have to come to an agreement right here, right now, while we still have some semblance of a time advantage."

Jane frowns, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. "That doesn't sound ominous at all," she mumbles, her fingers finding each other and twisting together.

"Not ominous," Mulan refutes, "just . . . pressing." She sucks in a breath, before either of them can interrupt. There's no time to beat around the bush. "Anna Lehne has reappeared on the radar."

Shang and Jane freeze, eyes widening.

"Anna—?" Jane closes her eyes, sucking in a harsh breath through her nose. "Of all people," she murmurs. "How long has it been since the last time?"

"Six months," Shang rumbles, rubbing his mouth in thought.

Anna is a master of making herself disappear without a trace. When the old elites were alive they had a way of keeping Anna around, but once they were killed there was nothing stopping Anna from dropping off the face of the planet on a regular bases.

"Where is she?" Shang asks, as the shock wears off.

"Western Canada," Calhoun answers. "The exact location will remain on my hard drive until you decide what you want to do."

Jane rubs the back of her neck. "It's not guaranteed she retains her clearance," she says. "Her access was tied to the old elites. Do you think their death nullified the civilian exception they created for her?"

Mulan shrugs. "I don't know," she replies. "Considering her clearance was higher than even ours today, however, I'd say she's worth a shot."

"Definitely worth a shot," Shang agrees. "I vote in favour of getting her ASAP."

"Same," Jane says, "but which one of us should go?"

"I can shadow on ahead to make sure she doesn't disappear again," Mulan says, "and one of you can follow on a ship to transport us back here once you catch up."

"Elsa will probably need me for the assault," Shang mulls, with a frown. "She might need you too, Mulan."

Mulan waves off the concern. "After Anna is on the transport I can shadow back to Elsa's location," she dismisses. "It would be a strain, but doable."

"Between Elsa, Shang, Megara and Rapunzel there's no need for me to be present," Jane reasons. "My hard-light rope might come in handy with Anna, too, if she's unwilling. The last thing any of us want is her freaking out and taking down the ship by either hacking into the system or doing something stupid."

"Agreed," Mulan says. "So it's a plan." She stands. "Let's get changed – we should set off immediately."

"What will we tell the team?" Shang asks.

"The truth," Mulan answers, "but if you could maybe leave out exact details until both of us are already set off, that would be optimal."

Shang nods. His eyebrows furrow. "I know I asked this before," he starts, "but how did Anna obtain elite-worthy clearance? The old elites didn't trust anyone."

Mulan pauses, thinking. Remembering.

" _Shit," Anna pants, her hands gripping the back of Athena's fully enclosed eagle-inspired helm, her cheek resting against the elite's metal jaw line. "Your room," she groans, eyelids fluttering as Athena presses her armour clad hips into the redhead's._

_Athena chuckles, deep and rumbling. "Yes, your majesty," she purrs, picking Anna up by the hips, forcing the programmer to wrap her legs around the elite._

_Anna giggles, kissing along the armour covering Athena's neck. "My hero," she chortles._

_Athena glances over Anna's shoulder, staring into the shadows Mulan hides. Her gaze, even unseen, is piercing. Dangerous. Warning the junior leaguer to keep her mouth shut, or else_.

"No idea," Mulan murmurs, just as she had all the other times that question had been posed to her. "Come on," she says, louder, "we don't have time to lose."


	7. The Memories We Question

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [itsnotkristoff ](http://itsnotkristoff.tumblr.com/)(tumblr) for fixing all the stupid errors I make.
> 
> * * *

Four Years A—? 

When everything you thought you knew is wrong, what do you do? Do you freeze? Cry out? Weep? Go into denial? Do nothing at all? Or, in realising your whole world is changing, do you lash out?

Arson, the world's resident embodiment of hope, breaks down.

Anna gulps in air, eyelids fluttering in a vain attempt to keep the moisture misting in her eyes from spilling over. "Jennifer, I don't—" her voice catches, and she grits her teeth, tears rolling down her cheeks. The superhero tries to wrap her head around the situation, their conversion tumbling around in her head, but she can't; she doesn't want to.

Jennifer laughs, loud and malicious. "It's _Athena_ to you," she mocks, a wicked grin twisting her lips. "And _honey_ , what isn't there to understand? I was with you to exploit your usefulness. End of story."

A strangled cry chokes its way up Anna's throat. "But we're engaged," she whispers, voice cracking. "You proposed."

"Correction, we _were_ engaged," Jennifer says, thumbing the hem of her pants. "A lot can change in a year," she muses, "but my feelings for you have not." She holds out a hand. "Give me my ring back."

Anna grinds her teeth. "You know I don't have it on me when I'm in costume," she spits, her throat tight and vision blurry.

Jennifer hums. "Shame," she murmurs, arm falling to her side. "Now I have to waste my time searching your homes." She throws back her head, cackling. "You never should have agreed to join our contingency dwellings," she laughs, her sharp, menacing gaze snapping back to Anna. "I was ensuring you had nowhere to hide, you blind _optimist_. How many times did I warn you about people like me? How many times did you agree? Yet you _never_ blinked an eye at me! It was pathetic, really, but I suppose you did me a favour."

"No," Anna says, shaking her head, staggering backwards. "No," she repeats. She's rutted herself into denial. She knows she needs to shake it off; all of her instincts scream that she's in danger, but one look at her fiancée stops all rational thought. They’ve been together for four years, after Jennifer revealed herself as Athena, and have been engaged for one. Neither of them had put much thought into a specific wedding date – with their luck, setting a date would ensure hero duties got in the way of the ceremony.

 _The Ambassadors_ , Anna thinks, a horrid idea sparking in her head. Did the Ambassadors do something to her lover before they turned heel and fled?

"Oh, fuck," Jennifer groans, annoyance upturning her lip into a scowl. "I know that look," she mutters. She gestures her arms at herself. "How many times do I have to tell you that this is who I've always been before you give up on the façade I created for you?" she bellows. "I don't know what explanation you have concocted, but I assure you that it's wrong."

"The Ambassadors could make you believe that," Anna argues, her passion—and desperation—returning to her. "Their race is more advanced than ours! And you saw their ship – they had more scientists then soldiers on board. Who knows what they could have done to you!" Anna reaches out her hand. She can't quite stop her fingers from shaking. "Please, let me take you to"—she pauses, thinking back to the names on the board—"Allure," she says, the details of the psychic coming to her in choppy, half deformed details. None of her memories have been making sense since the Intel mission to the Ambassador fleet, the one that made the aliens flee. Maybe they did something to her before they left, too.

Jennifer sneers. "I'm not going to an inexperienced meta-human who deals in pity crime and spends her time with undeserving trash," she spits, hatred swirling in her eyes.

"You could train her," Anna urges, taking a cautious step forward, "like you trained me."

"Not well enough to see sense," Jennifer sneers.

"And I could turn her to our side," Anna insists, ignoring her partner's comment, "like I did with Black Dragon."

Jennifer barks a surprised, condescending laugh. "Is that what you think?" she chortles. The sound makes Anna's blood run cold. "You may have curbed that dragon's agenda but, I assure you, it remains as black as mine." She smiles, slow and seductive. Predatory. "We came to an agreement some time ago; she would obey you as leader, but my word is the one she ultimately follows. I mean, come _on_ ," she laughs, "do you honestly think we would all follow a hero weaker than us? You were leader because the public loves you, and we needed the good PR. You're useless in combat! When was the last time to won against any of the elites when one of us weren't already compromised?"

"Shut up!" Anna snaps, unwilling to hear it. Not because of her naive bullheadedness to see the light in the darkness, but because Athena—yes, Athena, because Anna doesn't see her lover in this stranger—is starting to make a frightening amount of sense. But one detail spares the fire-wielder from drowning in complete despair.

No one can hide a personality trait of this magnitude for five years, not without leaving a trace. And, as Anna searches her memories, she can't come up with a single incident that would hint to malevolence of this scale.

Anna blinks, taking a step back. "You're not Jennifer," she says, her voice steady. Her mind quiets, and her priorities reset themselves.

Athena blinks, taken off guard by the sudden change. "I— of course I am," she says, her eyebrows furrowing, her jaw tightening.

"No," Anna states, without a hint of doubt, "you're not."

"No, look, Anna—" Athena sighs, her shoulders relaxing. All hints of her previous attitude dissipate into thin air. "The other elites and I wanted to test your reaction to an emotional, high-pressure situation," she shrugs, with a weak smile. "I didn't appreciate them voting our relationship as the most efficient testing material, but here we are." She rubs her arm, shifting her weight as an awkward silent descends on the area. "Anna?" she whispers, swallowing when the redhead doesn't answer. "I'm sorry."

"Whether this is an emotional manipulation test or not, I will not forgive you so easily," Anna says, eyes hardening. "Because you're either trying to trick me, or what you're saying is correct and the verbal abuse you've made me endure for the past goddamn hour is _fucked up_."

"Okay," Athena says, biting her lip. "Can we, uh, go home?" she asks, a nervous quiver to her voice. "I'll make pancakes. With chocolate chips and blueberries."

Anna's eyes soften before she can stop herself, her heart beginning to warm around the fractures it just suffered. Jenn— _Athena_ quirks a lopsided smile.

"There you are," Athena says, grinning when Anna flushes and turns her head away. She closes the distance between them, resting her forehead on Anna's temple and holding her in a gentle hug.

Anna tightens her jaw, tears misting her eyes. "You can't make this go away with cute words and chocolate," she says, voice cracking.

Jennif— _Athena_ 's features draw taunt, the muscles of her jaw jumping. "I know," she mumbles, closing her eyes. "But I don't have to."

Anna blinks. "Wait, wha— _oof!_ " Anna coughs and sputters, collapsing to her knees. She claws at her chest, feeling her lover's magic seep into her chest and clench around her heart. "The fuck—?" the redhead sputters, crying out when her heart spasms.

"You were right, you know," Athena says, staring down at her teammate with uncaring eyes. "At least partially," she amends, with a sickening smile. "I _am_ Jennifer, but I'm not the Jennifer you know and love. Oh, she's alive somewhere inside of me I'm sure, but she isn't here to protect you now. Maybe she'll come out when I kill you, if I don't kill her first."

Betrayal burns through Anna's veins, a shot of adrenaline trailing close behind. "For someone so smart," Anna snarls, silver pinpricks lighting in the center of her pupils; red tinting the edges of her irises, "you are unbelievably _stupid_." With a shout, Athena's magic flees her body. Anna stands, her shoulders hunched and muscles coiled. A furious scowl mars her features.

Athena reels back, her eyes widening. Her mind jumps into hyper drive, trying to source Anna's ability to dispel her magic, coming up with nothing.

Anna cackles, lips twisting into a wicked grin. "Our time sparring together has given me just enough of an immunity to survive a concentrated dosage of your powers, upon necessity," she explains. Her humour fades. "I believe this counts."

"No," Athena whispers. That doesn't make any sense. She searches for her magic inside of Anna, finding the traces the fire master couldn't dispel.

But the self-proclaimed goddess needs to take a gamble. Does she have time to gather the leftover magic and put Anna down, or should she dispel the rest of it and play it off?

Anna rumbles a laugh, black fire— _hellfire_ —burning at the back of her throat. That seals Athena's decision.

Athena disperses her magic immediately. "Anna, stop!" she shouts, desperate. "Please, it's me! What are you doing?"

Anna hesitates, but it doesn't lower her level of aggression. Sweat pools on Athena's brow. Anna angles her head down, growling deep in her chest as she looks up at her—former?—fiancée. Hellfire smoke hisses out the redhead's nose, puffs out of the corners of her mouth. Athena backs up, distancing herself from the deadly fumes.

Hellfire and hellfire smoke – the only two abilities Anna possesses that pose a real threat to the elites. They're intoxicating to the user and deadly to everyone outside of the host, which is why Anna only used the ability when she had no other choice. Athena has never seen Anna call on the black flames outside of controlled environments in . . . years. That alone scares Athena to the core.

"Anna," Athena says again, her voice trembling. Without her armour she is unbelievably vulnerable. The metal wouldn't be able to protect her from black, unrelenting flames, but it would at least protect her from the fumes and boost her chances of escape. "Look at me," she begs, "really look at me, please; it's Jennifer."

"I'm looking," Anna growls. "I'm not impressed."

"Anna, please!" Athena cries, her breath hitching in her throat when silver-laced black fire spits from the redhead's mouth, burning itself up with an unearthly, ghost of a scream. Athena glances around her, looking for something – _anything_ that will help her. Her eye spies a tortoise paperweight. Her stomach turns; a stupid, sickening idea popping into her head, but she has to do it whether she likes it or not. If Athena doesn't activate Anna's sympathetic side again, she's dead meat. Or dead air, she should say. Not even ash would remain if she's hit with hellfire.

Athena grabs the paperweight. "I only want what's best for you!" she cries. "And I'll prove it to you!" She slams the heavy steel tortoise into the side of her head with all her might. She stumbles and falls, pain flaring in every nerve in her body. But it's not enough. "It's me, Anna," she whispers, raising the paperweight again, "and I would never hurt you."

Anna stares as Athena slams the steel into her head once more. The hero collapses face first onto the floor, spasming. She's not knocked out, but she's rendered herself immobile. Useless.

The redhead hums, dispelling her hellfire. Athena could be telling the truth, or she could not be – which is far more likely. The split personality ruse? Unlikely. The real Jennifer had to of been replaced, it's just a matter of finding out if she's still alive.

"But I can't burn any bridges yet," she rumbles, cracking a smile at her pun before turning heel and walking away. She will contact the elites and tell them Athena's location. They will retrieve and care for her, and Anna will meet up with them after she takes care of couple items of business. She'll pretend she believes Jennifer, that she's sorry, and figure out what's really going on.

And if the spiteful Jennifer on the floor behind her does happen to be _her_ Jennifer, well, Anna will deal with that when it becomes an issue.

She sighs, shaking her head and blinking away her tunnel vision.

When her eyelids rise after the final blink, the colour of her eyes has returned to normal.

* * *

Present Day 

Anna jerks awake with a gasp, a sheen of cold sweat covering her skin. She swallows, her throat bulging with the harsh motion, and she pushes away from her dining table, peeling newspapers from her cheek. She glances at the date on the least crinkled page. October twenty-eighth. Anna starts, there's no way— she spies the year, and her shoulders relax. This newspaper is from last year. She must of found it during her drunken stupor the night before.

She looks around, eyebrows rising at the haphazardly painted forest green walls with horrid forest landscapes finger painted over top. Globs of green and brown stain the floor and the furniture.

Thankfully Anna remembers her paint-stealing trip the day before, or at least enough of it to know that she pulled it off without a hitch, but she doesn't remember actually using it. This confuses the meta-human for a good four seconds before she spies an empty bottle of twelve-year-old Canadian Rye, sitting beside the empty bottle of rum she had brought with her.

Right. She stole it from a customer leaving a local liquor store after her paint heist. She's surprised he hadn't noticed his bottle had been replaced with a paint roller head. She would have thought he would have suspected something with the weight difference.

Either way, that _does_ explain why Anna doesn't exactly remember getting home, and why she had used her hands to paint. Which, aside from under her finger nails, her drunken self had cleaned quite well. If her crispy clothes were anything to go by, however, she didn't do it in any fashion sober her would approve of.

"Oh don't fucking tell me," Anna mutters, pushing from the table and entering the bathroom. She flicks on the light, and her suspicions are confirmed.

She had taken a shower, fully clothed, and neglected to wash the paint residue from the tub, or the shower curtain. Or the toilet bowl. Or the floor. Or the sink. Or the light switch. Or the walls. Or the ceiling. Anna does a double take. She groans, confirming the paint splatters above her head. Deciding not to question it, she turns her sights down.

"Fucking _really?_ " Anna sighs, spying the paint caked roll of toilet paper. The hand indents indicate she had used the poor, unsuspecting butt-wiping-squares to dry her hands.

Anna decides she doesn't like drunk her very much.

Then again, she doesn't like herself in general.

Turning heel, Anna heads to the bedroom, praying her drunken senses at least had the sense to leave that room alone.

"Welp," Anna says, popping the 'P' with more force than necessary, "this happened."

While her bed and supplies miraculously remained untouched, nothing else in the room survived the onslaught of brown and green. She must have lost whatever creativeness she had when painting the living room, if the broad, vague swirls of brown atop of green are anything to go by. It looks like the walls had been attacked by a child Van Gogh. The floor and dresser top are littered with brown and green footprints. In the middle of the floor is a choppy blob of paint, as if Anna had collapsed and struggled to get back up.

"What an adorable murder scene," Anna drawls, removing her paint-stained clothes and pulling a new set from her backpack. She debates taking a shower, but decides against it. She doesn't want to deal with that disaster yet.

With a heavy sigh, Anna changes into dark green cargo pants and another pale bluish-gray t-shirt. She pulls a couple Canadian bills from the bag and shoves them in her pocket, along with her phone and apartment key. As an afterthought, she grabs her wallet, shoving it in her back pocket. All it contains are her civilian identity items, but living inside the law—or at least pretending to—requires things of the sort.

Locking the door behind her, Anna aims for the stairs. After being forced in the bottom of an elevator shift and having the metal-deathtrap drop on her, and from being in elevators when the cords snap, she avoids using the convenient system whenever she can. She uses them when she has to, of course, but when she's in civvies she tries not to. At least when she's Arson she can use her powers to save herself and not have anyone bat an eye.

Anna might not have much in her civilian identity – no friends, no home, no family; but she does have seclusion. No one sees her face and runs away in terror, because no one knows who she is. When she's Anna, no one automatically pins her as the bad guy, or tries to capture or kill her because of her reputation.

Seven flights of stairs later, Anna finds herself outside, heading towards a diner she's hoping serves all-day breakfast. Or at least is open for breakfast. She has no idea what time it is. She would try to gauge it by the location of the sun, but she hasn't a clue what direction is which. Considering how bad her sense of bearing is, it's amazing how little she finds herself lost.

Movement stirs behind her.

Anna's pupils narrow into pinpricks, the world around her slowing as adrenaline kick-starts in her veins. She analyzes the situation within a second.

No one was following her. She would have noticed. She would have noticed an animal, too. So, if not—

Instinct has Anna leaping aside but, as she sees the pavement getting closer to her, she retracts her impulse to catch and twirl herself back to her feet. She can't look like she's combat capable, not until she knows what she's up against.

So Anna hits the ground hard, groaning as her momentum rolls her. She grits her teeth and pushes to her knees, noting the dirt and blood on her skin, her clothes. Damn it. She just changed.

Anna glares in the direction of the attacker. The colour in her cheeks drain when all she sees is an empty alleyway, half shadowed by the angle of the sun.

"Shit," Anna puffs, scrambling to her feet. "Shit," she repeats, tripping over her herself as she turns heel and bolts, mindful to stay as far from the shadows at she can. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ " she growls, trying to run fast but not fast enough to make onlookers believe she's more than ordinary.

 _How did they find me so fast?_ Anna thinks, her mind racing as she turns corner after corner, trying to lose her pursuer. Calhoun can access any camera she desires, closed networked or not, but when could one have spotted her? She'd pulled the paint heist off perfectly – she was always aware of every camera and where it was pointed, and on her way home—

She'd stolen the liquor, and doesn't remember how she got back to her apartment. Which means, odds are, she wasn't aware of her surroundings enough to _hide her face_ from security footage.

 _I couldn't make this easy for myself for once, could I?_ Anna thinks, a scowl pulling on her lips. She really shouldn't be surprised – she's been sabotaging herself, consciously and unconsciously, since the dust of the Ambassador fleet cleared.

The only good news is that she's being hunted as Anna, not Arson. The bad news is that she has to handle this situation like Anna, so the chances of her escaping a hero who can fade into one shadow and reform in another anywhere in the world is less than unlikely. It's impossible. At least as Arson she could use her flames to keep Shadow from materializing close to her and take to the sky, giving her time to hide.

Anna jams her sneakers into the sidewalk, turning a sharp hundred degree angle.

Only to slam face-first into a black-clad chest.

The figure grabs Anna by the shoulders, pulling her into a suppression hold and clamping a hand over her mouth. Anna struggles with as much force she estimates a normal human has, to no avail.

Anna never thought she would say this, but not being Arson fucking blows sometimes.

Although, considering the shit Anna's actually _blown up_ as Arson, she really shouldn't miss her genocidal alter ego.

"Shh," the figure whispers, dragging Anna out of public view. "It's just me, Shadow." Anna doesn't stop fighting. "Do you remember me?" Shadow asks, worry creeping into her voice. "We met seven years ago, a year prior to Calhoun's installation." Anna bites the inside of one of Shadow's fingers. The woman stifles a yelp, snatching her hand away.

"Let me go," Anna demands, breathless. The mere thought of walking the Protector halls again, knowing that she murdered her teammates— "Please," Anna chokes, tears misting her eyes, "I don't want to be a part of that life anymore." And it's true. If Anna didn't use her alter ego to protect the universe against threats hidden in Calhoun's blackout zone, she would have ditched the meta-human life completely.

Shadow sighs, her grip loosening but not releasing. "I know you've been through hell," she whispers, "but the league needs you."

"You know nothing about hell," Anna snarls, her eyes hardening. She clamps her jaw before she can say more. As Arson she's gone through hell a thousand times over, but Anna doesn't know what her count is otherwise, and if it compares to the woman behind her.

"I might not have gone through the same types of hell you did," Shadow relents, "but I _have_ gone through hell. I still go through hell, and I don't want anyone else to feel the same. If you come with me, you can help prevent others from experiencing what we have."

Anna's movements slow. She's wanted that since before she was a hero; wanted it even after she became a villain. But in the end, does the good she's done outweigh the bad, or did in her passion did she become one of the problems she wanted to fix?

 _To help as a human, though_ , Anna thinks, taking her bottom lip between her teeth. As far as she's aware her civilian identity still has clearance in Calhoun's system, or could be reinstated if it was suspended. Would that help the world more, she wonders, if she could aid the league with knowledge instead of lone wolfing the issues no one knows are a problem?

She could fake Arson's death and hang up her mask for good; she'll never have to be a part of the problem again.

All wishful thinking that may or may not pan out, but there's only one way to find out.

"A week," Anna bargains. "I'll help you for a week, but if I don't like it after that time or if Arson finds me, I'm done. Understand?"

Shadow's hold disappears and she steps forward, flashing the redhead a smile. "Crystal," she agrees, her voice warm and soothing. "Let's head to your place, yeah? We might as well be comfortable while we wait for Justice to arrive with the ship." Shadow steps into the shadows. "Don't worry," she says, "I'll be right behind you." Her form disperses into mist.

The corner of Anna's eyes pinch but she does what the hero says, making a mental note to program this location as compromised in Chel's system.


	8. Unintended Genocide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [itsnotkristoff ](http://itsnotkristoff.tumblr.com/)(tumblr) for fixing all the stupid errors I make.

Three and a Half Years Ago 

"Get her fucking mask off!" General bellows, batting a fireball away with his shield. The heat bursts through the metal, making him cry out.

Tarzan growls, ducking behind a car. She watches civilians scramble and scream, trying to escape from the epic battle that full well has the potential to kill them. It's already killed so many. "Allure!" she shouts, anger and desperation constricting her chest. "Fucking do something!"

"Her mind isn't weak enough yet!" Allure calls back, panic clear in her tone.

Not weak enough? It's been _two hours_ , and the longer they fought, the closer Arson has brought them into the heart of the USA state the league had found her in. The fire master has made it impossible to eliminate civilian casualties, and is doing her best to prove it with every building she destroys.

Arson cackles. "Allure," she purrs, from her spot up the street. She stopped using her flames to suspend herself in the air some time ago. "A Romanian psychic with the power to manipulate states of mind." She laughs. "The old elites and I had scouted you, you know, but determined your powers too weak to handle the weight of the crimes the league dealt with. I can see not much has changed."

Ice spears from the ground, melting as it makes contact with Arson's ring of heat.

"Really, Blizzard," Arson chuckles, "I'd think you'd of learned by now; if you can't stand the heat, stay out of the oven." Heat waves shimmer from the road, windows in nearby buildings crack. Cars groan. Tires pop. The Protector heroes retreat to cover further away.

"Damn it Blizzard, cool down the air before she fries us!" Allure shouts, skidding into an alleyway. Golden Flower leaps in after her, her breath quivering with fear she can't suppress.

"I'd have to plunge this whole area into an ice-age!" Blizzard grits, deflecting blasts of fire with duel shields of ice. They melt minutely with every hit but, thanks to her last encounter with Arson, she had the motivation to strengthen her ice. She can now recreate ultimate zero, both in her ice and in her surrounding area.

"What are you waiting for then?" Allure exclaims. "Do it!"

"I've never done it before!" Blizzard snaps. "The chances are just as high that I'll use too much power and freeze over this entire city and its inhabitants, including you. And guess what – as much as sci-fi likes to advertise cryogenic freezing, _I am not capable of it_."

"You also weren't capable of ultimate zero when we recruited you," Shadow points out, her form misting in and out in the shadow behind a car. "So maybe—"

"I'm not freezing this city," Blizzard growls.

Allure cries out in frustration. "Goddamn it – just freeze _Arson!_ " she exclaims. "No one will fucking care if you can't bring her back to life!"

"That might work," Shadow murmurs, from her location beside Blizzard. The ice hero blocks another series of attacks, gritting her teeth. "Blizzard," Shadow says, her voice in full command mode, "aim your full efforts at Arson. Freeze her, freeze around her – I don't care, just take up so much of her focus that she doesn't have the option of dividing her attention without risk of you gaining the upper hand. The rest of the team and I will take care of everything else."

Blizzard nods, keenly aware of the suppression mask hidden beneath her armour. As long as Shadow can get the neck clamp on Arson, Blizzard can switch the villain's mask. But she has to be quick, or else everything falls apart.

"Is that all you've got?" Blizzard goads, directing her full freezing force into a narrow stream, and sending it straight at Arson. Arson's eyes widen, and the surrounding area drops in temperature as all the villain's heat focuses on shielding herself. The fire master's heels dig into the broken asphalt, her whole body leaning forward to keep herself from toppling over.

"You've gotten better," Arson says, a strained laugh forcing its way out her throat.

"Maybe you've gotten worse," Blizzard scolds, taking a step forward. Arson's legs clench; shaking with the effort to stay in place.

"Perhaps," the villain grits, croaking a choked cry when Blizzard continues to advance. Arson's eyebrows furrow, the corners of her eyes gaining worried crinkles. "Blizzard," she says, when the winter hero is less than two meters away from her. She can barely hear herself over the roar of their combined powers. "Do you remember the last time we fought?"

"When you almost killed me?" Blizzard drawls. "Yeah. Kind of hard to forget."

"The look in my eyes," Arson insists, one of her knees buckling and smashing against the pavement. Her eyes clench shut, head twitching. "If you never want to see me like that again, fully prepared to gut you, you'll let me go. I'll even owe you a favour, to help you or the league out when things get sketchy. All you have to do is stop."

"I don't need favours from a murderer," Blizzard snarls.

"Then do it to save your fucking life!" Arson shouts, her breathing ragged. "I know I've done horrible things and you have no reason to believe me, but I beg you – don't force me to put another mark on my genocide count. _Let me go_."

"So you have the chance to pounce when we're not looking? No thanks," Blizzard says, closing the distance between them to a meter.

"I don't want to kill anyone else, not like that!" Arson bellows, her pupils narrowing into pinpricks and her eyes widening. Blizzard's power forces her skidding back, digging chunks of asphalt into her knee, her shin. Not even her armour can stop it from hurting. "Once was enough," she adds, through gritted teeth.

Blizzard's eyes harden. "Desperate words of a desperate woman," she growls.

Arson clenches her eyes shut, crying out from strain. "Whether you believe it or not doesn't matter," she grinds. "I just need you to believe that I've had enough fighting for one day, because on three I'm going to halt my powers, as a truce." She airs a dark, bitter laugh. "It's your choice if you want to use this opportunity for peace, or for revenge. So, Blizzard, show me—show your friends—what type of hero you really are. One."

Blizzard narrows her eyes. There's no way Arson's telling the truth.

"Two."

Arson _slaughtered_ Hades on live TV, and threatened to kill the human race if they tried to enact justice on her. She's _lying_. She has to be.

"Three."

For a half a second Blizzard's chest puffs in pride— _she was right_ —but, in the next, her heart sinks into her stomach.

Blizzard cuts off her powers, eyes wide in horror as Arson writhes in pain, outright screaming from the agony of having both her arms frozen solid. Tears shamelessly stain her cheeks as she summons white-hot flames to thaw her limbs. A whimper catches in the villain's throat, her head hanging and her shoulders quivering.

Blizzard staggers back a step, flashes of the hero Arson used to be—the hero she idolized—popping to the forefront of her mind. Her stomach rolls and, for a moment, she fears she'll throw up. Because she just maimed the woman who inspired her to use her powers; convinced her that they were a good thing. The woman whose likeness used to grace every wall in her room. The woman who made the world _believe_ and _hope_ —

—Is kneeling in front of her, defeated and mutilated. Because of _her_.

Blizzard turns away, dissolving her helm and covering her mouth with an ice armoured hand. None of the hundred times she's dreamt of this moment could have prepared her for the emotional whiplash. Somewhere in the back of Blizzard's mind, she never thought the ragtag league could overpower Arson. The fire master made herself appear so invincible that—

A pathetic whimper catches Blizzard's attention and, reforming her helm, she turns back around. For a moment her heart leaps into her throat, adrenaline spiking when she sees Arson's arms unfrozen. Then she notices the utter defeat in the villain's eyes, the fresh tear streaks. Blizzard follows Arson's line of sight, and her heart constricts when she sees the fire master's fingers struggle to twitch.

Blizzard destroyed the nerves in Arson's arms.

This time when Blizzard turns, she _does_ throw up.

"Gotcha!" Shadow says, followed by a robotic hiss. "Come on Blizzard, switch out the mask!"

Blizzard wipes her mouth, reforms her helm, and turns around. Arson continues staring at her hands, ignoring the suppression clamp Shadow attached to her neck. With trembling fingers Blizzard removes the mask from under her armour and steps forward, taking a knee in front of the villain.

Arson glances up, her eyes connecting with the wintry hero's. After a moment her eyes flick to the suppression mask. Her shoulders slump. "There's no need for that," the redhead murmurs. Her shoulder twitches, and the villain winces, tears misting her eyes. "Since I can't literally point out the obvious," Arson mutters, bitter, "I'd ask you take a close look at the item in your hand and the item on my face."

With hesitance, Blizzard holds up the mask beside Arson's, comparing the two. Her breath hitches. Besides the differing colour and added heat-reactant lines, the masks are exactly the same.

"You— you're already wearing it," Blizzard chokes. Arson nods, gaze downcast. "How—"

"That doesn't really matter, does it?" Arson whispers.

Allure steps up, arms crossed over her chest. "She could have designed it to look the same to trick us," she says, wary. "For all we know she could be bidding her time before killing us. I say we switch it."

"I agree," General says. "Arson doesn't do anything without a reason."

"Or it _is_ the real thing," Golden Flower suggests, "designed so that we'd question how real it is and opt to swap it. We'd be right in front of her, and she'd have a small window of opportunity to blast us away before the power's suppressed again."

"There's not much use in either scenario if I'm a fucking cripple," Arson bites, her eyes hardening.

"Golden Flower," General says, "can you use your powers to check the extent of Arson's injuries?"

Golden Flower nods, closing her eyes. "The nerves in her arms have sustained massive damage," she starts, "she has a couple fractures, lacerations, bruising, old breaks that healed incorrectly, and—" The healer's eyes blink open and she walks forward, kneeling behind the villain. "What happened here?" she whispers, running her fingertips over the fabric covering Arson's lower back.

Arson's head snaps up, her pupils narrowing to pinpricks. In one swift motion she rotates, falls to her back and lashes out with her feet. "Don't you fucking touch me!" she snarls, kicking the heel of her boot into Golden Flower's jaw.

Tarzan reacts the fastest, using her powers to tie Arson's ankles together. For good measure, she steps forward and slams her fist into the villain's diaphragm. Arson coughs and wheezes, curling into herself.

"Okay, that's a sensitive area," Golden Flower mutters, poking at her jaw through her mask as she heals it. She tilts her head, sending Arson a questioning look. "Who hurt you, Arson?" she asks, taking her teammates aback.

"None of your business," Arson croaks.

"Your lower back," Golden Flower specifies, "why is it branded?"

"Fuck off!" Arson barks, flashing the healer a sharp, dangerous glower.

"She's branded?" Blizzard asks, muscles jumping in surprise.

"Of a sort," Golden Flower amends. "I suppose it would be more of a label."

"Shut up!" Arson screams. "Shut up, shut up, _shut up!_ "

"What is it?" Shadow asks, ignoring the broken meta-human.

"A magical wound," Golden Flower says, pushing to her feet. "An active one, at that. I've never seen magic powerful enough to linger with this level of concentration."

"What does it say?" General questions. "You said it was a label, not a brand," he explains, "I assume that means the attacker used a word or two?"

Golden Flower nods. "Yeah," she confirms, "it says—"

"Mind your own fucking business!" Arson bellows, struggling against her restraints.

"—'Traitor,'" Golden Flower finishes.

Arson _howls_ , rage flashing in her eyes. "Fuck you!" she screams, kicking out with her bound feet, even though no one is in range. "I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you! I'll flay you alive and leave you to rot!"

"I guess it was more of a sore spot then I thought," Golden Flower says, her eyebrows furrowing.

"Aaand the Arson we know is back," Tarzan says with a smug, if frustrated, set to her shoulders. "Allure, can you make her docile so we can exchange the masks?"

Allure frowns. "Her mind still isn't weak enough to grant me safe passage," she says.

Arson lifts her legs, tucking her knees against her chest. "Go ahead, take a go," she goads, venom dripping from her words. She wiggles her hips. "Everyone else is getting off on me, why don't you join the fun?"

Allure's eyebrows fall into an unamused line. "Be prepared to knock me out," she drawls, walking forward and pushing the toe of her sneaker into Arson's throat. Arson glares at her, ire shining in her irises.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," the villain rumbles.

"That means anything goes, right?" Allure snaps back, closing her eyes. "Sorry, but I prefer maintaining the peace."

Arson barks a sharp, scolding laugh. "You impudent—" Her words catch in her throat, and she slams her eyes shut. "Damn it," the villain grits, her back arching and her head twitching.

"There we go," Allure breathes, sinking beside the injured meta-human and wrapping her hands around the back of Arson's head. "Shh," she airs, a comforting hue colouring her words, "it's okay, I have you. You're safe now." Arson's body relaxes, the angry lines in her forehead smoothing. Allure plants a soft kiss to the villain's hairline. "Good girl," she mumbles. "Do you love me?"

Tears escape from Arson's closed lids. "How are you doing this?" she asks, her voice the most at peace any of the heroes have ever heard it. Allure pulls back, shocked. Arson opens her eyes, raw emotion burning into the telepath's mind.

"How are you self-aware?" Allure asks, keeping her tone a loving murmur despite the tightening of her muscles.

"You blocked out the pain," Arson states, ignoring the question. "How did you—" Her eyes soften, Allure's magic sinking further into her brain. "Yes," she breathes, answering the original question, "I love you."

"Good," Allure says, her tension easing. "Do you trust me?" Arson nods, placid. Allure smiles, moving one hand to rub circles on the back of the villain's neck, who purrs in response, eyelids fluttering. "Even better," Allure says, a warm lilt entering her tone, "because I'm going to have to change your mask. It may be scary, but I promise you're in good hands, and that you're safe. Okay?"

The corner of Arson's eyes crinkle, eyes shining with bliss. "Okay," she says, arm twitching. "Why can't I move hand?" she asks, a flicker of self-awareness coming back to her.

"You'll regain feeling in it after we're done," Allure assures, pushing her magic in deeper. "Is that a problem?"

Arson's eyelids flicker shut. "No," she murmurs. She looks like she's on the verge of falling asleep.

"Good," Allure praises, "I'm going to remove your mask now. Stay calm for me, yeah?"

Blizzard frowns, unnerved by the display. She looks around her, her gaze stopping on the disturbed expression marring Golden Flower's showing features. Guess Blizzard isn't the only one who is uncomfortable.

A choked groan catches Blizzard's attention, and her head snaps back to Allure and Arson. Her muscles jump at the awareness in the villain's wide eyes.

"Too deep," Arson gasps, her body spasming. "Draw out," she says, "for all our sakes, draw your magic out."

Allure's eyebrows furrow. "How—"

"If I knew you'd go deep enough to hit it—" Arson chokes, wincing. Her back arches, a scream ripping from her lungs.

Allure cripples, clawing at her scalp. "Knock me out," she gasps, a tremor jerking through her entire body. " _Knock me out!_ " she bellows, blood dripping from her nose, her ears.

"Do it!" Golden Flower orders, panicked. "Her insides are burning!"

Time slows as Blizzard examines the situation. Allure's disintegrating health. General rushing forward with a cocked fist. Arson's unlocked mask. The spark of silver and red in the villa—

Arson chuckles, low in her chest. Smoke rolls in minute puffs around her loose mask, her eyes lighting with calm malice. The villain's gaze snaps to Blizzard, pinning her in place, and she watches, helpless, as red edges into Arson's irises; as silver sparks in her pupils. Arson's eyes crinkle in sick amusement. "Does this look familiar to you?" the fire master rumbles, one of her hands struggling to make a dropping motion.

Blizzard's heart stutters in her chest, and she bolts forward, grabbing her teammates with ice and pulling them onto an icy platform. Keeping them secured, she jumps on the platform, braces herself, and throws her arms forward. At breakneck speed, Blizzard races the slab of ice out of the city, heading out of the state.

"The hell is this?" General asks, struggling to speak over the wind slamming into him.

"She activated black fire!" Blizzard grits, yelling over the wind. "We need to get out of here before—"

The earth rumbles, quakes. Tentative, Blizzard looks behind her. A black explosion engulfs the city they were fighting in, the momentum carrying the deadly flames out in a shockwave.

Blizzard releases a terrified laugh, turning her attention forward and pushing with all her strength.

She's able to get out of the blast's range, but when she stops and releases her teammates, the sight behind them makes her stomach turn.

"I just checked in with Calhoun's satellite network," Shadow says, her voice soft as she hands over the display in her hand. "Arson, she—" she swallows, "s-she just wiped half of South Carolina off the map."

Blizzard stares at the empty land, its downward sloop leading to the home of the crater over a hundred kilometers in. She grabs Tarzan's shoulder, stopping her from rushing into the wasteland. "We don't know the lingering effects of black fire," Blizzard murmurs, numb. "We need to contact the President, get him to section off this area."

"What about Arson?" Tarzan shouts, angry tears burning in her eyes. "We can't let her get away with this."

"Right now," Blizzard whispers, "we don't have a choice."

* * *

Present Day 

Jane watches Anna out of the corner of her eye, the way she rubs her scuffed up arm and winces when she thinks the hero isn't looking. Jane considers commenting on the observation, but decides better of it. The redhead is different from the cheerful woman she remembers, and doubts she would take kindly to an old acquaintance being too familiar.

So Jane focuses on flying the ship. It doesn't stop her from worrying, but it helps clear her mind.

Two hours from the departure in Canada, Jane lands the ship in the league's underwater base off the coast of Belgium. It's built into a small island to allow a surface entrance, but the main ship and hero entrances are underwater.

Anna hums, catching Jane's attention; but she doesn't say anything. She merely watches as the redhead stands and walks to the window, staring at the docking port from the safety of the land, sea and space craft.

"It's been a while since I've been here," Anna murmurs. "I can't say I ever wanted to see it again."

Jane nods. "Some bad has originated here," she agrees, making Anna wince, "but a lot of good has come out of it, too." She stands and heads for the exit. "We have two teams out on missions right now, but I'm sure the heroes still here can prove that all of us only want what's best."

"Arson only wanted what was best," Anna whispers, "and look how that turned out."

Jane's eyebrows furrow. "Arson is an anomaly no one can figure out, not even the ones who knew her," she says.

Anna turns, pinning the hero with a remorseful smile. "Who's to say she's the only one who's good at hiding?" she asks.

Jane's demeanor softens. "Calhoun updated her screening method since then, Anna," she assures. "You're safe here."

Anna chuckles, but its devoid of mirth. "I've heard that before," she airs, walking to the exit and heading out in front of Jane. For a second Jane only stares, unsure how to proceed. What happened to Anna after the Ambassador incident? Shaking out of her stupor, the hero follows after the redhead.

The sight that greets Jane makes her blink.

Ariel, dressed in metal plated blue formal attire with a trident strapped to her back, circles Anna with a inquisitive tilt to her head. Anna, for her credit, restricts herself to following the marine meta-alien with wary eyes.

Ariel notices Jane, and flashes her a grin. "Hey Justice," she greets, "is this a new addition to the team?"

"Sorry to disappoint, Poseidon," Anna says, taking a distancing step, "but I'm a temporary technical aid, not a meta."

Ariel twitches a curious smile. "I'm pretty sure Decryption has that handled," she says, then blinks. "You know me?"

Anna barks a surprised laugh, a spark of humour—of life—returning to her eyes. "It's kind-of hard _not_ to know the members of the Protector league, no matter how good I am at isolating myself from society," she answers, her amusement fading. "As for Decryption, I'm sure you'd be right under different circumstances."

Ariel cants her head to the side. "How do you mean?" she asks.

Jane steps forward. "I'm guessing you weren't at the base when General explained why Shadow and I left even though we were preparing for an op?" she questions.

"I just got in," Ariel confirms. "There's an op going on?"

"Yeah," Jane confirms, "but I'll explain that later. This"—she gestures to Anna—"is Anna Lehne; she was the league's original tech support before Scar was recruited, and before Calhoun was installed. If her access has been retained, she'll have almost as much freedom manoeuvring Calhoun's system as the old elites did." The corners of Anna's eyes pinch at the reminder.

Ariel blinks. "I— really?" She beams. "This is wonderful news! We need to celebrate."

Anna backs up, tripping over her own heels. She flashes the meta-alien an anxious smile. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves," she says, "we need to at least confirm my status in the system, first."

"Anna," Calhoun says, over the speaker system, "it's been a while. I'm glad to see you're okay."

"Yeah," Anna huffs, "that's, uh, yeah. I guess so. How about you?"

"I'd like to tell you," Calhoun says, words slow, "but you don't have that level of access. Not anymore."

Anna's jaw slacks. "But—" she frowns, "how—"

"Your access was granted through Athena's authorization codes," the AI explains, "so when she died—"

"That's enough," Anna interrupts, her features contorting in pain. "You don't"—her voice cracks—"you don't have to finish that sentence."

Jane frowns, and exchanges a look with Ariel.

"As you wish," Calhoun obeys.

Ariel hums, rubbing the back of her neck. "Is there any way for Anna to regain her old clearance?" she asks.

"The easiest way would be for one of the old elites to use their authorization codes to replace Athena's," Calhoun explains, "but Arson is the only living member of the group."

Anna's upper lip curls. "Let's not get her involved," she says. "What other options do we have?"

For a second Calhoun doesn't respond. "There's only one," she says, "you'd need to go into the recording booth, and give a locked condemning confession."

Anna freezes, the blood draining from her face. Her hands waves around her, searching for a place to sit down. "Lord in heaven," she airs, lowering herself to the floor and burying her face in her hands, knees tucked against her chest.

Ariel's eyebrows raise. "Uh," she utters, turning to Jane, "what is a 'locked condemning confession'?"

"I'm not exactly sure," Jane answers. "I haven't heard the term before, but it sounds mostly straight forward. Right?"

"I guess," Ariel says, but it sounds like more of a question then a statement.

"It's what the name suggests," Calhoun explains. "It is a confession that gives up all information that can be used to bring someone's demise should they betray whatever promise or obligation they summit themselves to. The information is locked and inaccessible unless they back out of their word. It acts as motivation to remain loyal."

"I want to go home," Anna warbles, muffled by her knees. "Coming here was a mistake."

Jane blinks. "Unless you were planning on stabbing us in the back I don't see the issue," she says.

Anna grits her teeth and lifts her head, glaring at the meta-human with a tear misted gaze. "The _issue_ ," she grits, "is the fact that I'd have to drudge up memories I've been doing a damn good job of suppressing. You can't blame me for not wanting to relive them."

Jane releases a controlled breath, her eyes softening. "No, I can't," she says, with a smile that can only be partially seen behind her white plumed, golden Spartan-like helmet. "I do beseech you to think on the matter, however; heaven and hell alike know we could use your former access."

"Yeah," Anna murmurs, resting her chin on her knees, "I know."

Jane frowns. She juts her thumb over her shoulder. "I'll grab your bag," she says. "In the meantime Poseidon can lead you to the guest quarters. I'll meet you there – Calhoun will tell me which of the rooms you settle in."

Anna's muscles jump, but she nods in agreement, belying the defiant set of her jaw, the worried set of her eyebrows.

"I know the way," Anna says, glancing to Ariel as she stands, "but feel free to join me, if you w—" The redhead hisses in pain, grabbing her scuffed up arm. Her legs wobble and she stumbles, catching herself before her knees give out.

Ariel dashes forward, supporting the young code expert. "Are you alright?" she asks, careful to avoid touching the younger woman's injuries.

"Of course," Anna laughs. It sounds strained, forced. "I just fell on it when Shadow came after me. See"—Anna moves her arm around—"it's fine."

Jane raises an eyebrow, her gaze falling to the subtle spasm in the programmer's hand. Still, she nods and heads back onto the ship, making a mental note to ask Golden Flower to pay Anna a visit upon her return.

Anna may like to hide whatever injuries she's sustained, but Jane hopes the woman will accept the aid to heal them. No one deserves to suffer. Especially not a civilian who got caught in the middle of a meta war.


	9. Better and Bitter Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [itsnotkristoff](http://itsnotkristoff.tumblr.com/) (tumblr) for fixing all the stupid errors I make.
> 
> * * *

Four Years A—? 

Anna strides through the Protector base, having returned from her last necessary errand before facing her—former?—friends.

The hero forces herself to take a breath. Even though her anger no longer has a stranglehold over her emotions, it still simmers within her at a ferocity she's never experienced before. It's possible the Ambassadors are behind this, the change in Anna's benevolent heart, but the fire master can't be sure; not with her memories distorting and twisting in on themselves.

At long last, after three days of preparation, Anna stops in front of the door that will either confirm or debunk her fears. She was in this room the day Athena tried to kill her, memorizing the information on the board, but she had been alone then. Now, she will face the elites.

Anna pushes into the room and shuts the door behind her. The conversations halt, and four sets of eyes fall on the redhead.

"So you didn't go rogue," Hades—James—says, his voice terse.

"I told you she wouldn't," Bear—Elinor—mutters, picking dirt from her fingernails.

Anna pulls off her mask and sets it on the strategy table, where four other masks or helms already sit. "I just needed space to think," she murmurs, glancing around the room, looking for anything out of place. She finds that change on the board and, despite herself,she can't help the way her body twitches in alarm.

James' eyes follow Anna's, and he shrugs. "You can't blame us," he says, a droll twinge to his words. "You're the one who nearly vaporized Jennifer in hellfire then disappeared for three days."

Anna takes in a calming breath, then another, trying to settle the frantic thumping of her heart. She walks around the table, up to the board, and shuffles through the papers placed on the long table in front of it. When she finds the stapled pages labelled 'Arson (Anna Lehne),' a choked breath escapes her lungs.

This room, code named the 'Planning Room' to keep the junior leaguers from getting suspicious, was created to be a technology black-out zone – no signal gets in, and no signal can be created _from_ within. The only way to learn what information is stored in here is to be physically in the room and read the information. While the elites do actually use this room for planning or talking about sensitive matters, the main purpose is for the board.

The board is a map of the universe, housing the names of all upcoming metas the elites—mainly Athena—were able to find, and arrows pointing to their general locations. On the table stretching in front of the board are detailed analyzes of each meta—again, mainly thanks to Athena—describing each meta's exact address, real name, family, friends, strengths, weaknesses and whether or not their personality leans towards them turning into a hero, a villain or a nobody.

The board also houses the names of all known villains and heroes, marked respectfully in red print or blue. Even already defined, the elites collectively create a profile on them based on what they know, what they've seen and their personal assessments after meeting them. What never changes is, at the top of each assessment, right under the name, a figure sits that states how likely the meta would be to swap sides, followed by an explanation.

In saying this, the names that are never put on the board are those who help create and maintain it; the elites. The elites all know how likely they are to turn villainous, given the right circumstances; none of them needed the extra reminder.

"Yes," Anna agrees in a low mumble, flipping through the double sided pages housing her doom. "But she did try to kill me, fake or not." In her mind she knows that attempt on her life was real, but she can't show her cards yet. Not until she knows the true extent of Athena's words, or whether she spouted lies.

"I told you before," Athena says, taking the analyses from Anna's hands, "and I'll tell you again – we, all of us, wanted to test how you would react to a high-pressure situation. It wasn't done in the most optimal way, I agree, but it needed to be done." Anna's eyes flick to the cursed papers in her fiancée's hand, noting the defensive curl of her arm and wrist.

"I know," Anna says, letting the observation slide as she walks away from the board to lean against the strategy table. "That's why I'm here."

Black Dragon—Anna still refuses to call her or Athena by name—smiles, and says, "That's good to hear. We can't afford to lose you."

"Of course," Anna replies, with a scolding smile. "It would be bad for business to lose your PR rep."

Black Dragon's smile falters. "What are you talking about?" she asks.

Athena's eyebrows furrow. "Anna—" she tries.

"Don't you fucking 'Anna' me," the redhead snaps, glaring at her to-be wife. She can't quite stop the tears from misting her eyes. "Whether you meant what you said or not, you said it and damn it you _meant_ _every word_." Anna's voice cracks andshe grits her teeth. "I'm here because I'm a good person and I want to continue to do good, but that doesn't mean I'll forget or that I forgive you."

Athena frowns, taking time to set Anna's papers back on the long table. "If you need time," she says, words slow, "both from the league and from me—"

Anna barks a cold laugh. "'If'?" she mocks. "Of _course_ I needed time," she snaps. "I needed time and I took it, and what did it get me? A place on the fucking board!"

Athena holds out a calming hand. "I know you're upset—"

"You tried to kill me!" Anna roars, pushing from the table and glaring at the so-called goddess. "I am _more_ than upset!"

Tense silence settles over the elites, and Anna grits her teeth. This isn't how she imagined this conversation going.

Athena inhales a sharp breath. "I knew you wouldn't be permanently harmed because of the power transfers that occurred during the beginning of our relationship," she explains. "Immunity to your powers never took with me, but a resistance to my powers took with you. So I knew you would have either overwhelmed me, or you would've passed out."

 _Passed out_ , Anna's brain mocks. No one 'passes out' from getting their heart crushed.

Still, Anna nods. She can't show her doubts yet, not when she's surrounded

A tiny yap catches the redhead's attention.

With a blink, Anna glances to the main table. She struggles to keep her heart from melting when her eyes land on the most adorable fox she's ever seen.

"That's cheating, Elinor," Anna scolds. The fox yaps again, tongue lolling out of its mouth. "Goddamn it," Anna mutters, scooping the fox into her arms. The fox struggles and jumps on the redhead's shoulder, sitting tall and proud. Anna sighs.

James cracks a smile, the first one since Anna's arrived. "Here," he says, moving to Anna's side, "let me get her." He reaches out but Elinor bounds away, trotting across the table. Anna watches with raised eyebrows.

Anna sucks in a sharp breath, using the last of her fading powers to push James away from her. The muscles in her jaw jumping, the fire hero touches the back of her neck, not surprised to feel one of her suppression items clamped to it. She should have seen it coming, but that hardly matters now.

With a growl, Anna activates hellfire, allowing it to burn at the back of her throat as she glares down the three people in fron—

 _Three?_ Anna questions, her eyes widening.

"Shit!" Anna swears, leaping out of the way just as a hell gate opens beneath her feet. She rolls to her knees and spins around, but it's too late to react. James—no, Hades—slams the suppression mask on her face. To her horror a devilish smile curls on Hades' lips, and he opens a hell gate beneath her.

Anna flips and grabs onto a leg of the strategy table. She grits her teeth as unearthly vibrations shudder through her legs—hanging in the portal—up her spine and disperse through her body. A howl rips through her lungs, unable to handle the frequency of the afterlife ability without Hades' protection or the protection of her hellfire. Hades laughs, content to watch her struggle instead of widening the portal to suck her in.

Elinor, still a fox, trots up to Anna's hand, cocking her head. The fire hero feels her heart sink.

"Not you, too," Anna half asks, half begs.

For an answer, Eli— _Bear_ sinks her teeth into Anna's hand. Anna cries out as her bones crunch, the fox's strength proving to be far greater than its size.

 _I guess this is what I was preparing for_ , Anna thinks, with a bitter smile. Pulling a trigger out of her belt with her free hand, the fire hero flips the switch, throws it into the room, and lets go of the table leg. She slips through the portal and begins falling though a sky – _Hell's_ sky, if she remembers correctly. Before the portal closes above her—and therefore cuts the living world's access to her—Anna pushes an emergency teleport button on her belt.

Anna hits the floor of her and Athena's contingency bunker, hard. Air huffs from her lungs and comes back only in jagged half-breaths.

Without speaking, Chel projects images from inside the Protector base, using Calhoun's own cameras to show the bombs Anna herself planted exploding. Anna watches her second home be destroyed, the junior leaguers evaporated and Calhoun's body and mind burned to ash. Anna sees nothing of the elites, not that she could have if they remained in that room, but she doubts they're dead. They might have been injured if they waited too long to react, but Hades would have portalled them out before the Anna's attack proved fatal.

"Thank you, Chel," Anna croaks, groaning as she pushes herself upright. Without a word, Chel dispels the hissing camera feeds.

Ripping off the sleeve of her skin-tight outfit, Anna wraps it around her fractured hand, tight enough to keep everything in place but not tight enough to make her eyes water.

With her mind buzzing with minor madness, courtesy of the hell gate, and her heart aching with betrayal, Anna makes her way to Chel's core room. It won't be long until Athena figures out where Anna is hiding or she realizes the need to secure Chel. Something Anna won't ever let her do.

Anna's hand throbs, and she winces. She needs to cauterize the wound to stop the bleeding until she can get to Golden Flower. Luckily for her, she had suspected her suppression items might be used, and thus compromised them while she was planting the explosives. Unfortunately, she couldn't compromise them enough for Athena to notice. Getting past Calhoun wasn't a problem, not when Anna gave Chel the codes that allowed the AI to shut down Calhoun's systems.

The fire meta stops by her room, grabbing a bag she had prepared last night and the dagger beside it. She slips one of the straps of the bag over her shoulder and clutches the blade in her left—non-dominant—hand. The corners of her eyes pinch. When she had planned exploiting this defect, she had also planned on having functionality of her right hand. Of course she could always get someone else to take the mask off, but that's a risk she's not willing to take. Not with the elites hunting her.

So with as much precision Anna can muster, she shoves the tip of the dagger into the raised seam in the front of the mask. It cracks along the seam, but the blade doesn't catch in the dent and it slips; leaving her with one less eye than she came here with.

Tears and swears fill the room as she fiddles with the hilt of the blade, thinking of the best way to pull it out. From nowhere—courtesy of Chel's teleportation—a morphine shot materializes on the bed, along with an experimental shot that heals the majority of fatal wounds, to a point. Without thinking, Anna pulls out the dagger and jabs each of the shots into her neck in turn.

When the pain numbs enough for her to function, Anna leaves her room, abandoning the blooded knife, and heads to Chel's core – sure to avoid detours this time. Once in the room, she locks herself inside and sits in the makeshift table slash seat she'd set up earlier that day. Settling on it, with her bag beside her, Anna commands, "Do it."

The AI straps Anna to the recliner in response, tubes and wires being released from the cylindrical hub. The needle ends pierce Anna's skin, their metal tips controlled through Chel's magnetization – thanks to the type of core Athena had used, and from what solar system it belonged.

As fluid begins to run along the tubes, Anna closes her good eye and tries to ignore the nervous quivering of her muscles.

"Chel," Anna says, before she starts twisting in the pain she knows is coming, "give me everything I can handle, and then some. If the elites arrive before you're finished, blow the base. My life be damned."

Like the wordless AI she is, Chel doesn't respond; but Anna knows she'll follow the instructions without question.

The cold liquid begins seeping into her blood, and though Anna knows the morphine won't be nearly enough to numb the agony, she won't tell Chel to stop; because there's only one way Anna is going to survive a war with the elites.

She needs to be able to teleport.

* * *

Present Day 

Anna leans back in the rolling chair, her feet propped up on Calhoun's massive main console, located in the center of the base. It isn't the most secure location by any means, but that isn't really an issue. Though, Anna supposes, she's the only one who knows that now. Unless Calhoun deemed it fit to break protocol, no one outside the old elites knows that she isn't an AI, and where her 'core' location is.

The redhead sighs, tilting her head back and staring at the ceiling. How many locked sections of the base have been forgotten and neglected since her fall from grace? In some cases that's for the best, but in others . . . Anna purses her lips.

Leaning forward, Anna grabs the helmet Calhoun offered her half an hour ago, when she first arrived. Anna slips it over her head, feeling distinctly like an out-of-place biker, even if it's a device that cancels outgoing sound to allow for private conversations and not to protect the head from injury.

"So, it's on," Anna says, as unnecessary as the statement is. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Me? Nothing," Calhoun replies. "But when you arrived you appeared troubled. I thought I'd give you the opportunity to talk about it."

"Sounds like you're probing for details to me," Anna murmurs.

Calhoun sighs. "Details are important to me," the former meta-alien admits, "but that doesn't mean that's my goal here."

"Then what is?" the redhead asks.

For a long moment the disembodied voice doesn't respond. Then, with a soft exhale, Calhoun asks, "Do you know how long it's been since I had a conversation with someone who knows who I am? Who doesn't treat me like an AI built to serve the league?" Anna closes her eyes, guilt crashing into her chest. "Four years," Calhoun says, in lieu of the silence. "You and I have talked since then, sure, but it's always a tense battle filled with hidden purposes and threats. I miss— well, I miss a lot of things."

"Don't we all," Anna airs, glancing around her darkened surroundings; the dimmed lights the base's way of telling the occupants that it's night. "I miss Athena," she says, her voice cracking and her eyes misting. A lump rises in her throat, one she can't swallow. Calhoun gives her time, instead of asking the glaring question, 'then why did you kill her?' Anna's glad for it. "My mind wouldn't shut down," she finally says. She might not admit it aloud, but she sought this room out because she's missed talking to Calhoun, too. It's a comfort Anna doesn't get often.

"Anxious?" Calhoun asks, a soft relief in her tone.

"For the most part," Anna admits. "Giving you a locked confession that applies to both my identities is terrifying at best. There's a lot of things I haven't told you. Haven't told anyone."

"Trust me, I am well aware," Calhoun says, good humoured amusement in her tone that makes Anna smile. "Even so, why are you here instead of your room?"

"That isn't my room," Anna replies in a kneejerk reaction, but she doesn't have to explain. She _couldn't_ have had her old room because it's _Arson's_ room in the, now sealed, old elite living quarters. "Being here is bringing back a lot of memories," she whispers in answer. "None of them pleasant."

"So you couldn't sleep," Calhoun half says, half asks.

"More like I woke up in a cold sweat and refused to try again," Anna corrects. "Sleep hasn't been a sanctuary for a long time, for me. It's ironic in a way, considering how much Athena had struggled to wake me up on time."

"As I recall, she didn't always succeed," Calhoun chuckles. "I remember once she left your room and asked me to blast a foghorn in her wake."

Anna barks a surprised laugh. "I heard ringing for a good two hours after that," she recalls, the memory warming her heart just as much as it hurts it.

Comfortable silence settles for a couple of seconds, before Calhoun murmurs, "Why didn't you come back?"

Anna's back stiffens, her earlier nightmares—memories; fabricated ones, but memories all the same—rearing their heads. She doesn't say anything, lest she release the strangled sound choking on the lump in her throat.

"I mean," Calhoun continues, "you need me for your suppression medication whenever you go off and do something stupid, which is a lot, so why didn't you just come back to the league?"

_Executioner's Axe rolls Hades' heart in her hands, smiling down at Athena's horrified expression and Anna's pinched features, even if both are covered with armour. The redhead may have been fighting the elites for a good decade now, but even she doesn't agree with this. Hades' powers in his own hands is dangerous. His powers controlled by someone else? Disastrous._

" _This wasn't part of our deal," Anna says._

" _You wanted to take the elites out of the picture," Axe refutes. "That is what I've done."_

" _No; I wanted them_ dead _or_ locked up _," Anna snarls. "I didn't mean 'replace Hades' heart with a cursed dragon heart to make him a puppet' because_ why the fuck _would I want his powers in anybody else's hands?"_

_Athena stands, a hardened edge to her helm covered eyes. She doesn't look at Anna as she says, "It looks like we have a common interest for once, Arson."_

" _Yes," Anna agrees, not taking her eyes off Axe, "but our solutions in dealing with it are nowhere near common. So unless you turn tail and agree to kill your brother, we have nothing to talk about."_

_Athena grits her teeth. "We need each other to survive this," she snarls._

" _Correction,_ you _need_ me _to survive this," Anna says, levelling her former lover with a harsh gaze. "For all I'm concerned, I should leave you here to die."_

 _Athena refuses to turn her helmed head in Anna's direction. They've been on horrid terms for years now. "If you leave me here I'll be turned into the same_ thing _they've turned my brother," the goddess seethes. "I doubt either of us wants that."_

 _Anna huffs a short, unamused laugh. "If Bear or Black Dragon attack me when I deliver you, which you know they will, I'll level your base with hellfire," she says, a warning rumble to her words. "I doubt you want that any more_ _than you wanted this."_

_Athena releases a dark, mirthless chuckle. "Without Hades we can't get away from you," she says, venomous; as if she wishes she could kill with words. "Whether I like it or not, the remaining elites need you."_

_For a long moment Anna stares at the goddess, remembering everything this retched woman has ever done to her and will continue doing to her, but she still can't quite smother the small spark of hope that lights within her chest. She knows it will be the death of her, that she should level the room right now, taking herself out in the process, but she doesn't._

" _Whether I like it or not," Anna patriots, with an unbelieving puff of air. She can't be considering this, can she? Not after—_

_Anna's eyes harden and she turns heel, walking to the exit. "Have your way with her, Axe," she calls over her shoulder, "all I ask is you let me keep the body."_

" _I can take you to Jennifer!" Athena bellows, desperation seeping into her tone. "I know I lead you to believe that I'm her but it's a lie; save me and I'll take you to her."_

_Despite all of her instincts, Anna stops, processing the possibility. Even if she knows that it's probably a lie. Even if she knows it might get her killed; because that's who she is. She's not the kindest woman in the world anymore, but—_

Anna shakes the hazy memory from her mind. As real as they are when she's dreaming, she can tell which ones are fake when she's conscious. Most of the time, at least.

"If I do the condemning confession you'll know," Anna whispers. That is, _if_ she can make it through without puking. It would be easier if Anna could copy all of her memories and hand them over, but there's no way of doing that unless Anna integrates Chel into her biometrics, which isn't something she's willing to do. She doesn't need to become any closer to the monster in her memories.

A couple of seconds pass before Calhoun says, "I can tell you went through hell on the Ambassador ship"—Anna winces at the frank tone—"and it's hard to talk about, I know that, but it's . . . not necessarily required; not the exact details. The parameters of the LCC are that you explain what can be used against you, not the how or the why unless it's important. Maybe this won't make it easier for you, but maybe it will help."

 _It means I won't have to describe over forty years of memories I shouldn't have_ , Anna thinks, _so yeah, I'm pretty sure it'll help_.

Still, Anna hums in acknowledgement.

"Decryption's coming," Calhoun says, a tinge of disappointment in her tone. "So, depending on how many questions you want to answer at this time of night, you might consider handing back this helmet before she sees it."

Anna quirks a smile. "You haven't told any of the leaguers about this quirk, have you?" she asks.

"Except for the old junior leaguers, no," Calhoun confirms, with an exaggerated sigh. "No one nowadays has secrets to hide like the old elites did. Quite a pity, really."

Anna laughs, her first real one in days, if not weeks or months. "As I recall, none of us were keen on sharing all of our secrets with you," she reminds, her eyes crinkling in amusement.

"Yeah," Calhoun agrees, "but that's what made it fun. I used to stalk you all twenty-four seven until Black Dragon found out and threatened to unplug me if I didn't, and I quote, 'get your head out of our guts to get a whiff of our shit as our intestines create it.'"

Anna laughs harder than before, her bruised ribs protesting at the movement. "That sounds like her," she chortles, before the mirth catches in her throat. With a wince, she corrects, "Sounded like her."

Before Calhoun can respond, there's a knock on the helmet. Not wanting to hear whatever pity or blame Calhoun's bound to spill, Anna pulls off the headgear and sets it aside, back on the consol. Without a word, Calhoun absorbs it back into one of her oversized data pillars.

"What was that?" Decryption asks, with a frown.

"An isolated communication device," Anna explains, with a vague wave of her hand. "They're a direct connection between the wearer and Calhoun, with outgoing noise cancelation to prevent being overheard."

Decryption's frown deepens. "Why haven't I heard of it?" she utters, eyebrows furrowing.

"It's not really something one can find out if they don't need it," Anna admits. "Their main purpose is to give someone the privacy to talk about a situation that, for some reason or another, they can't speak with anyone else about. So unless you need it, Calhoun won't tell you." Anna shrugs. "I wouldn't doubt if I'm the first one to use it since the old elites passed, but I can't say for certain without my former clearance."

"A situation you can easily remedy," Decryption mutters, examining the consol. Anna allows the jab to pass unanswered; she's been through enough violence without creating more.

"Couldn't sleep?" Anna asks, leaning back in her chair.

"More like I haven't had the chance yet," Decryption corrects. "I was helping the heroes currently out on missions, but now anything else they need can be handled by Calhoun. How about you?" she questions. "Is your room not to your liking?"

"Change 'room' to 'this entire situation' and you'd be correct," Anna says, with a hollow chuckle. She raises a halting hand before Decryption can interrupt her. "I lost a lot during and following the Ambassador incident," she airs, a wince twitching her cheeks. "A lot of it had to do with the heroes that used to reside here. While—" she halts herself, realizing her next words, and flashes a bitter smile. "Well, let's just say I've been running for a reason."

Decryption pulls up another chair and sits down, a curious—if worried—expression marring her showing features. "Did Arson get to you?" she asks.

"Among others, yes," Anna confirms. "And I'm not nearly as brave as I think I am—which has a low standard as it is—to deal with those people. If they find out I've been here, even after they warned me—" Anna's bitter smile fades and her pupils narrow as memories— _real_ memories—assault her mind. Memories of being held face down, a magic-suppressant rag shoved down her throat to both prevent her hellfire and muffle her screams as two metas brand her back and pull down her—

"Anna?" Decryption asks in alarm, poised to stand.

Anna shocks out of the memory, her breathing heavy, her body trembling and a cold sweat beginning to sheen her skin. She wipes her face, surprised to find wet tear tracks.

"I'm fine," Anna says, when Decryption continues to stare, but she doubts her cracking voice holds any conviction. Anna stands when the hero does, stumbling over her chair to get away. "Stay away from me," the redhead stutters, her chest quivering as her brain flashes back to the event, like it happened yesterday. Anna had convinced herself at the time that she deserved every second of it—and after just murdering the elites, she did—but she never expected it to haunt her as bad as the killing blows to her friends.

Anna trips over her feet, falling to her rear. When Decryption rushes to help, Anna sees an entirely different face, and a strangled scream rips from her lungs. She crawls back until her spine hits the far wall. Decryption takes a hesitant step forward, and Anna whimpers, covering her head with her hands.

"Don't hurt me," the redhead begs, rocking back and forth. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

Poseidon rushes into the room, her untied robe flashing her assets for all to see. "Are we being attacked?" she bellows, trident clutched in her dominate hand.

Anna sees another face on the meta-alien's, hears different words, and she cries out, clutching at her hair as if it would make a difference. Would make the memory go away.

Decryption frowns, raising a hand to keep Poseidon from approaching her fellow redhead. The water hero frowns, her sleep clogged brain trying and failing to process the scenario.

"What happened?" Poseiden asks, sure to keep her voice low.

Decryption twitches a regretful smile, and replies, "Anna has PTSD."


	10. Pyromaniac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [itsnotkristoff ](http://itsnotkristoff.tumblr.com/)(tumblr) for fixing all the stupid errors I make.

Three and a Half Years Ago 

Elsa's muscles quiver, the constant strain of using them to the limits day after day pulling her to the breaking point. She can't remember the last time she had a proper sleep, or even anything that constituted as more than a fitful nap.

After Arson destroyed half of South Carolina, no one caught sight of her for a week. During this time the media was in a frenzy, some boasting how the Protector league finally rid the universe of Arson, but most blaming them for the destruction of a state and the death of millions. The American President was ready to black list the current and future Protector superheroes from the USA indefinitely, when from the ashes of the defiled state, the troops securing the perimeter caught sight of their worst fear. Arson, ambling towards the edge of the ruin she created, eyes burning red and silver.

Before any of the soldiers had time to shoot, she was gone – breaking the sound barrier as she flew away.

The world was on edge, and the league did their best to stop all the bombs fired from twitchy fingers, but they didn't always succeed. They didn't have enough manpower to deal with an upheaval of this size.

That's when mercy came, in the form of Kida—or Zeus, as she called herself after the league explained superhero names—a lightning wielder from the ‘God planet’ Asgard, and Hercules – a resident meta-human with superhuman strength that, she claims, outmatches Arson's. Calhoun did a background check on both of them—a short one, the league didn't have time to waste—and cleared both for active duty, but promised to finish a detailed analysis before the week was out.

Fourteen days after Arson's confirmed survival, and two days after Zeus and Hercules were accepted into the Protector ranks, the villain fire-master made a reappearance with new, disturbing additions to her outfit. Arson's clothes were bulkier than before and, after a few skirmishes, the league determined the source to be advanced, flexible armour. Her mask, while the same suppression mask it was before, was modified to have three motorized, retractable slits to allow the use of black fire. The most disturbing thing, however, is the mechanical skeleton attached over the skin of Arson's arms and hands. While covered with gloves and long sleeves, the Protector members still caught glimpses of the technology.

And now, Elsa surmises as she stares down the fire villain, she realises the league should have left well enough alone.

Arson cackles low in her chest, her voice rumbling like the shockwaves of an incoming comet, and she says, "Shame on you, Blizzard, for leaving a job half done." She lifts her arms, wiggling her fingers. Her red and silver eyes flash with mirthful malice. "Really, you should know by now that I only come back stronger once you leave me for dead."

Elsa _doesn't_ know that, but the surety in the villain's voice gives her pause. Arson sounds like she's speaking from experience, but the only two encounters Elsa and her shared before now had Arson kicking her ass. The fire-master could be referring to the latest incident, where she levelled half a state and the league assumed her dead, but one example is nowhere near enough to define a pattern.

The winter hero clenches her fists, her muscles trembling with the effort. She doesn't have the strength to continue fighting, neither in magic nor in a physical show of power. Even if she was charged and ready to go, Elsa doubts she would be any match for her former idol. Her powers can stand up to Arson's regular fire but not her black fire, and physically? While all magic-inclined metas have minor qualities of super strength and endurance—it comes with the magical territory—Elsa has no chance in hell beating a meta more dominate in those areas than her. It would be like a child trying to beat an adult at arm wrestling; possible under the right circumstances, but not fucking likely.

Kida, in somewhat better shape than herself and Tarzan—who passed out halfway through the battle—circles Arson with a sharp gaze. Arson ignores her for the most part, but her awareness shows in the tilt of her body, the angle of her feet. While the villain has shown weakness to Kida's electricity, Kida has shown susceptibility to white fire and a disadvantage in hand-to-hand combat, which Arson excels.

Arson lowers her arms, her gaze boring into Elsa's. A sweat breaks over the hero's skin, the chill of her icy armour be damned.

"You have grown weaker," Arson comments, the unnatural howling of black fire hissing through the six open slits in her mask. "Even more reason to be disappointed in you."

"Weaker?" Elsa barks, gritting her teeth. "Last time we fight you told me I was getting stronger and, if you've forgotten, _I beat you_. Crippled your arms." For a time, at least. Although, Elsa supposes, Arson's arms might still _be_ crippled, if the mechanical skeleton she wears on them is any indication.

"The last time we fought I left you to bake in the desert on Achilles Four," Arson dead-pans, "and you hardly crippled me. As you can see"—she lifts her arms again, gesturing to herself—"my limbs work fine. You should really get your head out of the clouds. It doesn't suit you."

Elsa seethes. What in the _hell_ is this bitch going on about?

"I've never heard of Achilles Four," the winter hero growls, "nor have I ever been there."

Arson rolls her eyes, the spiteful action chilling Elsa to the bone. "Take your inability to accept your limitations to Athena and cry your heart out to her. Oh, wait," Arson stops, throwing back her head and laughing like the madwoman she is. "You can't!" she howls, gripping her stomach as it shakes with sick jollity. Then, as soon as it starts it ends, and Arson pins Elsa with the darkest look she's ever seen. In a low, dangerous rumble, the villain says, "Because I killed her."

Lightning lashes out, and so does Arson. Her and Kida lock in a dangerous scuffle, the ground trembling with the force of their powers.

Elsa limps her way to Tarzan, wanting to drag the unconscious woman out of the line of fire but not knowing how, not when Elsa herself feels like she's on the verge of collapse. Still, she hooks her arms under Tarzan's, hugs the woman's back to her icy chest plate and slowly, but surely, drags her away. Just not far enough to count.

She's not sure how much time passes until Kida is forced to take a knee, but Elsa can't say she's surprised once it happens. Kida may be strong, but she's had no training for this sort of thing. Hell, even those who _have_ had training for this sort of thing are nothing but useless cannon fodder against Arson's superior experience.

Calhoun had told them that Arson was the weakest of the old elites before they tried subduing her two and a half weeks ago, but the AI neglected to mention how strong the other elites were in comparison. If she had, maybe the heroes could have avoided all of this. But Elsa doubts that. All she can be glad for is that Arson was the one who took the plunge instead of one of the other four; the league wouldn't have stood a chance.

"Really, Kida," Arson says, her crotch an uncomfortable distance the meta-alien's face as the villain reaches down and weaves her fingers in the lightning-welder's hair.

"My name is Zeus," Kida spits, her heavy accent combined with her struggling making her words a tangled mess, but Arson understands her, if the disturbing amusement lacing her glowing eyes are any indication.

"Zeus, is it?" Arson chortles, the air around her shimmering. The hidden lines on her clothes light up, the red arches a warning to the activation of her powers.

Arson never used to be about show, Elsa recalls, but she must admit – Arson is no longer the person she used to be. And while it breaks the blond meta's heart to the core, she has to accept that the hero she loved is gone, or else she'll find herself dining with the old elites in the afterlife much sooner than she should.

"Since when did you take an alias?" Arson mocks, her silver pupils dilating when Kida tilts her head back to glare at her. The villain tightens her fingers, sucking in a sharp breath through her nose. Elsa swears she sees Arson's hips roll forward, but she has to be imagining it. She has to be. "Using a separate name but wearing nothing to hide your features defeats the purpose of donning a superhero title," Arson adds, when no answer from Kida is forthcoming. "Allure not using a mask is one thing, because she's a nobody," she taunts, her pupils blowing ever wider when Kida's glare sharpens. "But you're a princess," Arson breathes, a small, wanting groan sounding at the back of her throat, "and princesses will be recognized, and sought after, and _wanted_."

Elsa's eyes widen, chest constricting her heart. Out of all the horrid things her once wondrous hero has become, Elsa never once contemplated that she had fallen far enough to— to _violate_ people.

Arson keeps one hand in Kida's hair, using the other to fumble with her belt. "If you're good," she says, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement when Kida's struggling renews with vigor, "I might even let you see your family again. I'll give them a good show with you, and when they can't take any more I'll put them out of their misery. That sound like a plan?"

"No!" Kida cries, tears misting her eyes as Arson opens her belt and moves on to the button. "Please!" the meta-alien wails, trying to summon her powers and failing. She wore out her magic during the battle – using too much raw force and not enough precision.

"If you're bad," Arson continues, a nerve-wracking smile in her voice, "I'll make your life a living hell." She undoes the button, and moves on to the zipper. She laughs. "Let's be honest, I'll make your life a living hell either way, but at least if you're good you'll get to say goodbye to your loved ones." She pulls the zipper down.

Elsa thinks she's going to be sick.

"Hmm, how to do this," Arson hums, thumbing the edge of her open pants as she holds them up. "Like this?" she asks, taking a pointed step forward. "Or with you lying on the ground?"

Kida's breath puffs in and out, her body trembling in fear. With Arson's advance, Kida's nose is close enough to touch the villain's underwear if she so much as twitches her head forward. The tears clouding the royal's eyes spill over, Arson's smell cementing the reality that _yes, this is happening_ and _no, you can't stop her_.

Tarzan stirs in Elsa's arms, and the winter hero has half the mind to knock her out again, to spare her from seeing the scene on stark display before them.

Arson broadens her stance and releases her armour-laced cargo pants, allowing the garment to stop high on her thighs instead of falling to the ground. "Keep your hands locked behind your back if you don't want to get burnt," Arson says, with a chuckle. "Or do it anyway. I have a thing for inflicting cigarette burns."

"I don't—" Kida's voice cracks and she grits her teeth, unable to stop her tears from flowing. "Please," she begs, her chest hiccupping in repressed sobs, "let me go. I promise I won't oppose you again." The words are almost lost under the meta's accent, muddled with emotion. Elsa can't make heads or tails of the sentence, but Arson doesn't appear to have any trouble deciphering it.

"Many people have said that to me in the past," Arson muses. "Except for the rare percent, all of them have lied. So this is how it's going to work," she states, tapping the waistband of her underwear. "If you want to see your parents again, and I'll even give you a couple minutes alone with them before I start fucking you, you'll pull this down with your teeth and do all the work yourself. If you want me to torture your parents for decades before killing them, you'll make me force your head into place. Either way, you'll be doing the same deed. Make a choice."

After a pause, Kida asks, with a tremor to her voice, "How do I know you'll keep your word?"

Arson arches an eyebrow. "I'm going to make you regret being born no matter what you do," she says, tone flat. "And whether or not I keep my word doesn't really matter, because if you don't at least try you'll regret not doing everything you could have to save your loved ones from years of pain and misery. I'm giving you this choice for your peace of mind, which is more than you deserve. But who knows, maybe you'll be good enough to convince me to keep my promise. Stranger things have happened."

Kida hisses out a harsh breath, one that has Arson's eyelids fluttering.

"Wha— what's happening?" Tarzan airs, as if she was punched in the chest. Elsa winces.

"Kida wore out her powers," Elsa murmurs. "You and I don't have any juice left, and the rest of the league is dealing with other villains. Arson is"—she cringes—"taking advantage of the situation."

Kida, after a dreadful pause, locks her fingers behind her back. She straightens her kneeling body, giving her the height to nudge Arson's shirt up with her nose, her lips hovering over what she knows is the beginning of the end. The villain sucks in a sharp breath, her body quivering with anticipation.

"How are your arms holding out?"

Arson blinks, glancing over her shoulder. Elsa and Tarzan look, too, and both of them slump in relief. Elsa never thought she would be so happy to see Scar, the junior-leaguer-turned-villain-mastermind who has been raining hell on the heroes whenever Arson was too preoccupied to do it herself.

"Fine," Arson bites, her eyes narrowing.

Scar raises an eyebrow, glancing up from his tablet. He takes in the scene, shrugs, and goes back reading the information on his screen. He waves an uncaring hand.

"I'm not here to stop this little affair, if that's what you're worried about," Scar says, trotting over the debris and broken ground between him and his fellow villain. "I'm here because you've been fucking with my tech." Once he's close enough he flips his tablet around, allowing Arson to analyse the information.

"Oh," Arson mutters, with an uncaring undertone, "that's because I was struck by lightning a few times. Indirectly, of course," she adds, when Scar narrows his eyes at her, "but the electricity charging the air could have done something."

"'Could have,'" Scar mocks, jabbing a finger to the screen. "That looks more than a 'could have' to me."

"Fine, so it did," Arson grumbles, turning her attention back to Kida. "Don't mind him," she says, twitching her fingers in warning, "keep going."

Scar turns the screen back to himself, flipping through the information. "It also looks as if there is major impact damage," he states, accusing.

"I punch things and get punched back," Arson deadpans. "I mean really, use your head." Her breath staggers out of her lips, head tilting back as Kida grips the elastic of her underwear between her teeth, and pulls.

"Your arms won't be healed for a long time," Scar scolds. "And the tech you're wearing isn't easy to replace or repair. Use _your_ head and treat this tech right if you enjoy not depending on others to wipe your ass every time you shit."

"Language," Arson tsk's, "there's a princess present." Her eyes flash with sick amusement, the corners of her eyes crinkling. Scar's lip curls into a sneer.

"Can you take nothing seriously?" Scar snaps, his fingers tightening on his tablet hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

Arson laughs. "As if you're any better!" she cackles. "Sentient lives mean nothing to you anymore. At least I'm _aware_ they have feelings, even if it's just to crush their hopes and dreams."

"Yes," Scar murmurs, clicking a few options on his screen. A second later, a dart is sticking out of Arson's neck.

Arson's blown pupils narrow into pinpricks, and in a swift move she pulls up her pants and underwear, knees Kida in the face and kicks her away, yanks out the dart and does up her pants and belt. She whirls on Scar, a growl rumbling in her chest and black fire screaming unearthly cries at the back of her throat. Scar's eyes tighten, but he holds steady. Arson stomps forward, but before she can attack, her legs tremble and she stumbles to catch her bearings.

When the fire villain collapses to the ground, clawing at her hair, Scar releases a breath of relief. From the shadows, the Headless Horseman emerges, his hulking, headless form shimmering and misting around the edges, as if he doesn't really exist.

"A good shot for a man with no eyes," Scar compliments, gesturing in a specific direction. "Bring her to the transport. The drivers have already been informed of your destination, so there's no need to tell them."

The Headless Horsemen, a speechless villain, balls his fingers into fists. Scar smiles. It isn't comforting. Without further shows of complaint, the seven foot tall man lifts Arson and carries her away.

In the brief second Arson had to send a pained glower in Scar's direction, Elsa noted the villain's natural teal irises had started overtaking the red that had set up residence there.

When the Headless Horseman is out of sight, Scar's pretenses fall away, and he faces Elsa and Tarzan with a grave expression.

"Do the universe a favour, and never attempt to subdue Arson ever again," Scar says, his eyes hard and his tone damning. "She may not have been the strongest hero due to her own reservations but, as you just witnessed, she makes a fucking terrifying villain if you push her. So _don't, push, her_." He turns heel. "Treat her like the cretin she is all you like, but never, _ever_ go far enough to make her eyes change colour. Keep her irises teal and her pupils black, and you'll never have to worry about mass casualties from her ever again. She may have become a fiend, but as long as you don't make her snap, she's a fiend with morals; and a nightmare with standards is better than monster without them." He starts walking away.

"Wait!" Tarzan cries, reaching out. She tries to stand, only to collapse back into Elsa, a cringe twisting her features.

Scar pauses mid-step, glancing over his shoulder. He doesn't speak.

"Why did you help us?" Tarzan asks, her throat raw. She swallows. "You're a villain now, just like her."

Scar hums, glancing up to the sky. He takes a moment, then huffs a half amused breath. "I owed an old friend a favour," he admits. "Their request aligned with my own self-preservation, so I agreed." He shrugs. "Villains don't like being pushed around anymore than heroes do," he says, walking away. "Which should tell you something, considering the only person who agreed to stand up to Arson has no powers to speak of, and had to pay out the ass to get one of big-bads to _reluctantly_ help out." Scar stops at the top of a small mound, sending Tarzan a meaningful look. "Not even villains cross Arson anymore. So do us all a favour, and get with the program."

With that, Scar turns and disappears over the mound of dirt.

Tarzan closes her eyes, strain pulling her features taunt.

Elsa sighs and lays Tarzan on the ground, pushing herself onto shaky feet and limping her way to Kida's unconscious form. She's going to need someone to hold her when she wakes.

* * *

Present Day 

Esmeralda—Allure—watches with raised eyebrows as she witnesses Ariel pinning, who she assumes is the programmer Shadow went after, to her chest on the couch, cuddling the young woman as if both their lives depend on it.

"It is way too fucking early for this shit," the Romanian grumbles, padding her way to the base's kitchen. To her lack of surprise, Belle and Jane—holding a cup of tea and coffee, respectfully—are present, talking in hushed toned beside the coffeemaker. "May I?" Esmeralda grunts, pointing to the machine.

Belle and Jane look up, courteous smiles tugging their lips as they step out of the way. Esmeralda's eyebrows raise, her sharp gaze scanning both her friend's faces, their fully costumed bodies, sans the headgear. She sighs, grabbing a cup bearing her symbol from the cupboard. "Will I need to be properly caffeinated before we delve into this conversation?" she asks, popping the strongest black coffee k-cup the base has available into the machine.

Jane shrugs, taking a sip from her mug. She winces, and puts it in the microwave. "I wouldn't think so," she says, sending a pointed gesture to her warming coffee. "But it can be a touch discouraging."

"Does it have anything to do with Poseidon koala-ing that poor woman out there?" Esmeralda asks, watching the coffeemaker—or hot chocolate maker, in Elsa's case—dribble her morning salvation into her mug.

"Yes and no, leaning on yes," Jane answers, smirking when the Romanian sends her a flat look.

Belle rolls her eyes, keeping her voice low as she says, "Anna was injured when she arrived, kicking Poseidon's protective instinct into high gear. Justice was hardly able to drag her away from Anna's room when she settled down for the night."

Esmeralda pauses, mulling over the words. "But that isn't why Poseidon's behaving this way now," she guesses, more from experience than any indicator in Belle's tone.

Belle nods. "Anna couldn't sleep last night," she confirms. "I found her in Calhoun's core room when I was done assisting Blizzard and Archer's teams. Anna was troubled, to say the least. When she started to explain why, she broke into sweat, her breathing laboured, her eyes glossed over and she started crying. I broke her out of the trance, but when she looked at me it was as if she was looking at someone else. Someone who terrified her."

Esmeralda closes her eyes, allowing herself a second to take a breath. "She suffers from post traumatic stress?" she asks, seeing where this was heading. It's hard not to, considering she bore witness to half the league members developing the disorder first hand, and dealing with the fall out of those who already had it when they joined. The saddest part is that all cases were developed with Arson as the sole or root cause.

"Yeah," Belle breathes, swirling her tea. "Unlike all of us, her case appears to be"—she winces—"bad."

Blinking, Esmeralda turns, ignoring her finished coffee. "She's worse than Archer?" she questions.

Jane snorts. "I don't think Archer suffers from PTSD," she says. "Or if she does it's overshadowed a hundred times over by her obsession with mounting Arson's head on pike."

"Good point," Esmeralda consents. "Then who is she worse than?"

Belle and Jane share a look, one parents use when breaking uncertain news to a child.

"We're not quite sure of the extent," Belle says, words slow as she considers the best way to explain. "But I think it's fair to say she's worse than all the leaguers combined." Esmeralda's muscles jump in surprise, and Belle twitches a pitying smile. "She's not a meta like us, nor was she trained to deal with whatever hell she was put through. I can't say whether or not the events in her life can contend with ours, only that they affected her on a much deeper level than our tragedies have affected us."

Esmeralda runs her fingers through her hair. Releasing a steady breath, she grabs her coffee and downs half of it, wincing when it burns her tongue. "Will this stop her from helping us?" she asks, her eyebrows pinching.

Jane takes her mug from the microwave, swirling the contents. "That is a possibility," she concedes, "but if the Anna I remember is still in her somewhere, she'll choose to help us instead of being conquered by her fears."

The telepath hums, staring into the black liquid in her mug. "It might not make a difference," she murmurs, taking a more cautious sip of coffee. "She might want to help us, but that doesn't mean she'll want to risk her well being in the process. According to you," she says, turning to Belle, "Anna already went through hell once. There's no guarantee she'll risk going through it again. I can't say I would, in her shoes."

"I can't say I would, either," Jane agrees. "Some memories are too horrible to experience twice."

Belle stares into her cup, eyebrows furrowing. "Then where does that leave us?" she whispers. "The only way we can gain elite access ourselves is if the last of the old elites die, and the last time we went up against Arson, _really_ went up against her—"

"Half a state paid the price, we all got our asses kicked and Zeus was sexually assaulted, we _know_ ," Esmeralda snaps, her eyes hardening.

"Allure!" Jane barks. "We do _not_ mentio—"

"But it's true!" Esmeralda grits, the muscles in her jaw bulging. "As much as we try to ignore the past by never uttering a word, every move we have ever made against Arson has blown up in our faces. The only times it didn't was because Arson wanted to prove a fucking point. Her actions over the past three years may have proven that the hero we once knew is still in her somewhere, but it didn't stop her from slaughtering the old elites, or from becoming a mass murder, or from trying to kill us, or from trying to _rape us_." She raises her hands in mock surrender, a scathing smile on her lips. "Sure, she's docile enough when we run into her and she's not up to no good, but she is still a villain. The only reason she helped Blizzard with her parents—by _torturing_ Scar, mind you—was because someone else wanted her to."

Jane and Belle share a look, muscles twitching at the hostile reminder.

"You know, I've been thinking on that last point," Belle says, once again side stepping the league's history. "Blizzard told me that Arson's exact response when asked why she helped, was, 'I owed someone a favour.' My question, is who in this universe has enough of Arson's respect, or at least enough dirt, to get her to do whatever they want? Scar is out of the question, considering the circumstances, but who else—"

"Archer and Zeus have departed from Moscow," Calhoun reports, her voice startling the occupants of the kitchen. "They'll be arriving within the hour."

"Jesus, don't do that," Jane hisses, resting a hand over her heart. Belle smirks.

"You should be used it to by now," the genius teases, before turning her attention to one of the cameras; Calhoun's eyes. "Did you inform them to remain in costume?"

Calhoun hesitates. "Yes," she says, considering, "but I haven't told them a reason other than 'the league is housing a temporary guest.'"

Belle's eyebrows dart into her hairline. "Why would you do that?" she blurts. "They would be ecstatic to—"

"Zeus, maybe," Calhoun relents, "but not Archer."

A silence stretches, but when the AI doesn't elaborate Esmeralda takes the plunge, asking, "Care to explain?" She pauses, then frowns. "Or is it classified?"

"It isn't classified, at least not specific details," Calhoun says, "but it is rather . . . personal. You see," the intelligence stops here, mulling over her speech options. With a sigh, she admits, "Archer and Anna knew each other before the Ambassador incident; long before Archer even considered becoming a hero. They had a falling out when Anna failed to show to the funeral of Archer's mother, who perished when her plane was taken out by the Ambassador ship debris drawn through our atmosphere."

Esmeralda whistles. "Have they made contact with each other since?" she asks.

"Only once, a couple weeks after the funereal," Calhoun says. "As far as I understand it, Archer pushed Anna out of her life and Anna didn't fight the decision. That's not the outcome Anna wanted, mind you, but I think she was dealing with too many things in her own life to forcefully interfere in anyone else's."

"This . . . might be a problem," Jane pounders, with a frown.

"No shit," Belle says. "Archer is a loose cannon on the best of days."

"I'd say she's more psychotic," Esmeralda intercedes. "Or maybe a vengeful manic with a short temper."

"My _point_ ," Belle grits, "is that Archer being blind sighted by Anna will _not_ work in our favour."

"I doubt an advanced warning will be any better," Jane argues. "You know how she gets."

"I suggest you don your masks," Calhoun interrupts. "Anna is coming to the kitchen."

Jane sighs, and grabs her helm. "This discussion isn't over," she says, putting on the piece of armour.

"It will be if we don't come up with a solution before Archer gets back," Belle protests, grabbing the fabric mask pooled around her neck and settling the top over her nose.

Esmeralda—who doesn't wear a mask, like Megara, Ariel and Kida—takes another sip of her coffee. "Hercules can restrain her if she gets out of hand," the telepath reasons. She frowns. "Assuming she gets back before Archer."

"She won't," Belle says. "The mission she was on was a success, but General and Hercules are tying up loose ends, Shadow is passed out here at base but she won't be waking up anytime soon, and Blizzard and Golden Flower are staying home with Blizzard's parents for a few days. Not that I blame them."

"Blame who?" Anna asks, ducking around the corner and pressing her back against the wall.

Jane raises an eyebrow. "What are you doing?" she asks.

"Hiding from Poseidon," Anna hisses. "She keeps trapping me in fucking bear bugs."

Esmeralda coughs coffee back into her mug, laughter shaking her lungs. "Yeah, she's like that," she says, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement. "She only wants to make you feel better."

Anna cringes. "I wish she wouldn't," she whispers, almost too soft to hear. Louder, and before anyone can comment, she adds, "Look, I think I figured out a way to get back my access without making a LCC."

"Anna," Calhoun warns.

"Oh shut up," Anna snaps, glaring at the closest camera. "We both know you have more than enough information to ruin me. The only thing that _stupid_ confession would do is fill in the details."

"That's not what I meant and you know it," Calhoun retorts, voice hard. "I know what you're going to suggest, and it's not safe. You shouldn't even be considering it."

"Maybe," Anna relents. "But I can't do a locked confession, Calhoun. The memories alone send me into a panic attack—last night is a prime example of that—but explaining them?" The blood drains from her face. "I can't—" her voice cracks, and she swallows. "I can't do that."

Calhoun sighs. "I have medication to suppress mental break downs," she says, her tone gentle. No one needs to ask why. "And after the LCC is complete, you know I can suppress or dull the recollection of it to help you cope."

"Wait, what?" Jane blurts. "You can do that?"

"Yes and no," Calhoun answers. "The ability is strictly related to LCC's and contingency recordings, as per the old elite's programming. There are exceptions to the rule like any other, but the conditions are defined."

Esmeralda raises an eyebrow. "Contingency recordings?" she asks. "What are those?"

"They're something the old elites used to do," Jane answers. "They're messages they used to record prior to dangerous missions, in case they didn't come back. They had a general message for the league, a personal message for them self and the other elites, and sometimes messages for the junior leaguers. The personal message was what Calhoun would suppress; that way the elite wouldn't know what their past self said when it was played back."

Anna raises an eyebrow. "The elites forced the junior leaguers to make a few of the recordings too, if I recall, _but_ ," she adds, pointing to Esmeralda, "if her reaction is anything to go by, no one has done them in a while. Since you're not one of the surviving junior heroes, how do you know about them?"

"There is such a thing as active communication," Jane clips.

Anna hums. "So General and or Shadow told you and no one else?" she questions. "That seems . . . convenient."

"You assume that from _one_ hero's reaction?" Jane scoffs, dumping her coffee into the sink.

Anna stares for a moment, a remorseful smile lingering on her lips. "Of course, how presumptuous of me," she murmurs. "I apologize." Clearing her throat, she says, "I'll make a deal with you, Calhoun. If I succeed in the override you give me my former civilian access without qualms. If I fail, I'll do the LCC and you can pump me with drugs to help me cope. Who knows; maybe I'll be a better person as an addict."

"Override?" Belle questions. "Just what are you planning to do? Get yourself killed?"

"Fuck the override," Esmeralda intercedes. "I want to know why the hell we've never seen these general messages." She sends Jane a pointed look.

Jane winces. There's only so much detail she can reveal with Anna within earshot. The tech night not be a meta, or be anywhere as smart as Belle, but Anna is still perceptive enough to tie Jane's old superhero identity with her new one.

"They would have played to the junior leaguers after each elite's confirmed death," Anna explains, easing the tension in Jane's shoulders. "After that, the general messages will only play upon direct request. The personal messages, on the other hand, can only be accessed by the intended recipient or by high ranking league members twenty-five years following the death of the final surviving recipient, unless the last remaining survivor or survivors agree to unlock the messages early. Any and all confidential information would remain cut out of the video and faces blurred to protect ties to family and loved ones, however."

Belle's eyebrows dart into her hairline. "The old elites revealed what they looked like?" she asks, excitement bubbling in her chest.

"In the personal messages to the other elites," Anna confirms. "Not the general messages, though, since those are technically public to all league members, and not to the junior leaguers."

"Oh," Belle airs, mask wrinkling as she frowns. "So Arson"—she spits the name—"is the only person who knows what the old elites looked like?"

Anna laughs, eyes sparking in surprise at her own mirth. "A lot of people know what they looked like," she says, "but if you're referring to people who knew they were superheroes, then the count goes down to at least three people per elite."

Esmeralda tilts her head. "Why three?" she asks.

"Because only three people still alive know the identity of all five elites," Anna replies.

Jane hums. "Is this including or excluding Arson?" she questions.

Anna twitches a self-deprecating smile. "Two are Athena and Hades' parents and the other is me," she answers, if indirectly. "Look, I'm going to head over to Calhoun's briefing room and set everything up," she says, turning heel. "Join me if you'd like, but stay to the outskirts of the room if the override has already begun."

"Why the briefing room?" Esmeralda asks. "Wouldn't it be easier to go to her core?"

Anna pauses, glancing to the telepath over her shoulder. "Calhoun's core room isn't big enough to handle the process," she says, as if it were obvious. "And unless all the access panel locations have changed since I've last been here, the briefing room is the only logical place to do it. Everywhere else is either too small or has too much stuff." With that, she leaves – skirting Poseidon as when she passes through the living room.

"Okay, now I'm curious," Esmeralda admits, downing her coffee and setting her mug on the sink. She only gets halfway out of the kitchen before realizing the other two heroes haven't moved. The telepath raises an eyebrow. "Are you coming?" she asks.

"In a second," Jane says. "I just need a little time to think."

"Same," Belle agrees, glancing at the direction Anna left. "She knows so much more than us," she murmurs, "it's uncanny."

Esmeralda shrugs. "Suit yourselves," she says, trotting off.

Silence drags for a couple of moments, their minds weighed down with thought.

"Calhoun," Jane finally spokes, "is Arson the only person remaining that keeps the old elite's contingency messages locked?"

"No," the AI replies. "The other remaining people preventing the yearly countdown are General, Shadow, Scar and yourself."

Jane frowns, her eyebrows furrowing. "How is that?" she asks. "I didn't receive a personal message, nor did General or Shadow." Scar was gone before the general messages were unlocked, so even if he did receive one he wouldn't have been able to view it.

"The unlock applies to every single message the old elites ever recorded," Calhoun clarifies. "While any but the last ones are outdated, they would all be made available should an unanimous vote be cast or fifty years after the death of the last recipient."

Jane's muscles jolt in surprise. "Fifty?" she sputters. "What happened to twenty-five?"

"Twenty-five years only applies to the latest recordings," Calhoun says. "Too much information is contained within all of them to release at once."

Jane sighs. "So the only way I'd ever see the personal messages they made for me is if we can get Scar and Arson to help us," she mutters. So much for that plan. Getting Scar to help, surprisingly, wouldn't be too difficult. Arson, on the other hand? Not so much.

Calhoun hums. "Good luck with that," she utters, the tone perking Belle's interest.

"What makes you say that?" Belle asks, glancing at each camera in turn.

The AI sighs. "While Scar wouldn't give two shits either way," she says, "Arson . . . well," Calhoun chuckles, but there's little humour to it. "Arson hasn't watched any of the messages made available to her following the deaths of her comrades. Outright refused."

Belle's eyes harden. "Figures," she spits. "That bitch doesn't care about anyone other than herself."

"I . . . wouldn't be so sure," Jane whispers, taking the tip of her thumb between her teeth. "She's a murderous bastard, I'm not denying that," she amends, when Belle glares at her, "but sometimes Arson does these things that make me question whether—" she stops herself, and sighs. "General and I are of the belief that Arson should die for what she's done, no matter her reasons, but Shadow never truly gave up hope."

"I"—Belle frowns—"I didn't know that," she utters. Her eyebrows furrow. "Why hasn't Shadow given up? It's not like Arson has ever done anything to make us think she's anything but a villain."

Jane shrugs. "It's just something Hades' said in his general message," she says. "There's no way he could have known what Arson would have done so General and I didn't take much heed to it, but Shadow and Hades' had a strange, sibling-like bond that made her take his words more seriously than she should have. She still watches his message every now and then, you know. I don't know why; for courage, maybe. Or maybe to reaffirm that she's doing the right thing. Or maybe she just misses him."

Belle rubs the back of her neck, her eyes loosing focusing. "What did Hades say, in the message?" she asks.

"You'll find out when you watch it," Jane says, avoiding the question. "I can't do his message justice, but . . ." she twitches a guarded smile. "The key to Shadow's hope in Arson remains in the last line of advice Hades' gives before the recording cuts. Just be prepared to have a very widely agreed opinion shattered in the meantime."

Belle frowns. "What the hell are you talking about?" she asks. "Stop being cryptic."

Jane huffs through her nose, tilting her head to stare at the ceiling. "Belle," she breaths, as if talking to a misbehaving child, "Hades' message is about the Ambassadors."


	11. Can't Turn Back Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thank you to [itsnotkristoff ](http://itsnotkristoff.tumblr.com/)(tumblr) for beta-ing my work.
> 
>  _To all who review_ : I don't have a way to message guests (on FFnet, at least), and I don't often message signed-in users, so here's a note for all past and future reviewers who I don't acknowledge nearly enough: thank you for taking the time to write a comment on my story(ies). Whether your review is critical or praise, whether it's personal predictions for future chapters, or whether it's merely a 'thank you for updating' or a 'don't mind them' or 'I love this concept/writing style' or 'I SKIPPED BAND PRACTICE FOR YOU BRO,' it's always a pleasure getting feedback from you, and I always take what you have to say into account.
> 
> Also, I encourage everyone to make class, homework and band practice a priority over reading this story. No more skipping, okay dudes?
> 
> * * *

Four Years A—? 

Anna stands in one of the cramped storage rooms of Blizzard and Golden Flower's Norwegian university, trembling with the effort to stay upright. Even with the lingering morphine in her system, her fractured hand—now wrapped properly—and her gouged eye—also properly wrapped—still throb with dizzying intensity. To make matters worse, she had to evacuate and destroy the contingency bunker mere minutes after Chel's transfer was complete, leaving her head pounding and her muscles weak. At least it prevented the elites from finding her.

Pain stabs Anna in the back of the neck. She hisses, doubling over and trying her best not to scream. Spit pools on her lips and drips on the inside of her mask. It will make for an uncomfortable puddle against her chin later.

Anna can feel Chel's silent apology humming against her brain, but the pain persists. The hero crumbles to her knees, a choked cry strangling to a halt in her throat. She can't announce her presence, not yet.

Finally the pain dulls, and Anna's teary vision swims with pale red lines of infrastructure and bold red blobs of heat signatures, each signature labelled with the object's species and identity. A mix of Chel's core programming and a fraction of Athena's information vision. An ability that must have copied a shadow of itself into Chel when Athena was harvesting her teleportation.

Now, Athena could have _kept_ her teleportation—and in a way, she still retains half of the ability—but there wouldn't have been much point. When she and Hades were born, their parents bound each of the siblings with a magical seal which only allowed them to access the amount of power they could each handle, and Athena's teleportation was one of the powers suppressed.

In a way, Anna almost wishes Athena's parents hadn't used the seals. Sure Anna would be dead by now, but both Athena and Hades would be on an expiry date; their powers eating away at their lives every single second of the day. Both of them would be dead before their thirtieth birthday.

But Emma and Darryl were too smart to allow that.

Anna's eyes flick to the left, catching a familiar name a floor below her. 'Rapunzel,' it reads.

 _Golden Flower_ , Anna translates, glancing at the nearby heat signatures. The hero tisks. Too many people to teleport into. _But_ , she amends, spying an empty classroom, that doesn't stop her from getting her goal.

In the blink of an eye Anna is standing in the middle of the empty classroom, her useful eye watering with the pressure. She examines her surroundings, her eyebrows pinching when she notes her enhanced vision is no longer active. If she wanted **,** she could get Chel to tap back into it, but the AI has her hands full integrating her programming into Anna'a biology, and Anna doubts her head could take the extra strain. It's a miracle she hasn't already collapsed.

So, using her last memory of Rapunzel's location and direction, Anna jogs to the door and waits, counting the seconds in her head.

Anna takes a deep breath, nearly choking on the salvia sloshing within her mask, and opens the door. With a quick motion, but not quick enough to arise suspicion, Anna grabs Rapunzel's backpack and guides her into the classroom. Or at least that's what it will look like to onlookers.

" _The fuck?_ " Rapunzel exclaims in her native tongue, stumbling into the room. Anna snatches the books in the younger girl's arms before they can clatter to the floor.

"Sorry if I scared you," Anna apologies, setting the textbooks on the desk closest to her. Her good hand twitches, and she fiddles with the edge of her t-shirt, hoping beyond hope that the other elites didn't get to the healer first. The hero blinks, lifting up the hem of her shirt. In her haste to change after she fled the bunker, she donned the garment inside-out. Anna sighs, releasing the fabric. Figures. Turning towards Rapunzel, she holds out her hand. "My name is Mila Mays," she lies, "and I need your help."

The corner of Rapunzel's eyes crinkle, worry setting into her posture. She doesn't shake Anna's hand. " _I_ "—she clears her throat, switching from Norwegian to English—"I don't understand?"

Anna hums, waiting for Chel to deactivate the translator screeching in her brain— _that_ function hasn't got the kinks worked out yet, obviously—before saying, "I doubt you would, but that's fine." She turns around, pointing to the latch at the back of her mask. It's been bioengineered to respond to anyone _except_ Anna. A good thing if she was going rabid, but bad in any other scenario. "I just need you to take this off me, that's all," Anna says. It's a lie, but at least if Rapunzel refuses to heal her _afterwards_ she'll have access to hellfire again. "I would do it myself," she continues, holding up her wrapped hand, "but I'd need both hands to get it off." Not a complete lie, but still a fib.

"Oh," Rapunzel airs, the tension ebbing from her shoulders. "Sure." She steps forward, her fingers dancing along the switches. Within seconds the mask clatters to the ground, cold spit splattering around it.

Anna wipes her chin, wincing at the slick feeling. She shakes her hand, the strings of saliva she displaced slapping around her fingers.

"Fucking gross," Anna mutters, her stomach rolling at the cold sensation, and the smell. She walks over to the teacher's desk, grabbing a handful of tissues and wiping the wetness from her face, her hand, and where it dribbled on her shirt.

"Are you okay?" Rapunzel asks, taking a hesitant step towards her.

"No," Anna replies, honestly, "but I'm better than I was. Thank you." She turns, glancing at the mask before keeping her attention on the younger meta. "But, I must admit," Anna starts, with a repentant smile, "that wasn't the reason I needed you over anybody else."

Rapunzel's guards slam back into place, a wary set to her shoulders. "And why's that, might I ask?" she questions, her fingers twitching towards her pocket.

Anna's eyes soften. "I'm not a villain, Rapunzel," she says, making the healer's muscles jolt. "I'm not here to hurt you," Anna assures. "All I want is for you to heal me, and then I'll leave. No bargains or bribery just . . ." the redhead twitches a forced smile, "someone in need, asking you to have mercy."

Rapunzel shuffles, her features twisting in indecision. "I've only just started my second year of medical," she argues. "I can't—"

"Rapunzel," Anna sighs, leaning against the teacher's desk, "I know you're the meta Golden Flower, and that you don't need equipment to fix me. Like I said before," she adds, when she sees the healer's panic surface, "I'm _not_ a villain. In fact," Anna trails off, holding her palm face up in front of her. Flames burst to life above it. "I'm one of the most publicized heroes out there."

"Arson?" Rapunzel breathes, staring at the small fire in open wonder.

Anna hums in affirmation, dissolving the flames. "I'm afraid I got hurt pretty bad, this time," she says, her gaze flicking to the floor, then to the engagement ring she donned out of habit. Her fingers ball into a fist. "Will you help me?" she asks, her voice strained and taut.

Rapunzel nods. "Yeah, of course," she airs, closing her eyes.

Anna inhales a sharp breath through her nose as warm energy seeps into her skin, finding every ache and pain that has ever plagued her and correcting it. A staggered breath shimmers past the redhead's lips, her eye wide. She hasn't felt this free in ages.

One by one, every injury the hero has ever had is healed in full, and soon she pulls the bandage off her eye, amazing herself with the ease of the motion. She blinks the renewed eye, flexes her right hand. Anna's chest spreads with warmth, and tears stain her cheeks. She stares at Rapunzel with a newfound appreciation, and the redhead can't help the smile that spreads over her lips.

"I don't know what happening inside your head," Rapunzel comments, her eyebrows furrowing, "but no matter how much I try to heal your brain, it keeps getting injured."

"Ye-e-e-ah," Anna drawls, with a weary smile, "that will keep happening for a while. I doubt there's anything you could do to for it until after it stops."

"Probably," Rapunzel agrees, releasing her magic and opening her eyes. "But, if I may ask, what _is_ happening? I've never seen anything like that before."

"I have an AI trying to make itself at home in my skull," Anna says, pushing from the desk and stretching, relishing when her abused bones don't scream in protest.

Rapunzel's eyebrows shoot into her hairline. "And you're okay with that?" she asks.

Anna shrugs. "I'm the one who initiated it, so I'd hope so," she says, flashing the younger meta a grin. As soon as the humour appears, however, it flickers away. "Just so you know, Rapunzel," she says, gaze flitting towards the door. "The people who attacked me—" her lips purse, the muscles in her jaw jumping. "Don't be surprised if the other elites show up," she says instead. "They'll try to convince you that I've jumped the band wagon, that I tried to kill them; that I killed the junior leaguers.

"The latter two are the truth," Anna admits, her heart throbbing at the thought of the four juniors, "but what they won't tell you is that they tried to kill me first. I don't know why," she adds, before Rapunzel can ask. "They say I failed a test, but . . ." the redhead's eyes pinch, and she touches her engagement ring. "I don't know what's happening to them," she whispers. "Maybe the elites have been using me this whole time, but even so – they've never once hinted at the malice they showed me over the last few days." Anna closes her eyes, forcing herself to take a calming breath. "Believe whomever you want when the time comes," she says, opening her eyes and locking her gaze with Rapunzel's, "but as long as you stay out of the elite's manhunt against me, you will receive no grief from me. Consider that a promise."

Rapunzel's fingers tremble. She fiddles with her backpack straps, her clothes, her hair; she can't keep still.

"I'm sorry," Anna whispers. She grips at her t-shirt, as if it could dull the pain in her chest. "For the both of us."

"Oh, how sweet," a voice rumbles, stepping from the shadows. "I'm surprised you still have a heart after what you've done."

Anna's muscles jolt, and she casts her flames around the room, hovering in all the right places to eliminate the shadows. Shadow herself, for once not donning her half face mask, smiles.

"At least you're excited to see me," Shadow says, a smirk curling her lips.

Anna blinks. She opens her mouth to ask how the junior leaguer is still alive, but stops herself. With the ability to meld into and out of any shadow, the question is a redundant one.

"Yeah," Anna airs. "I'm glad you're okay."

Shadow's eyes narrow, her jaw hardening. "I can't say the same for you," she snarls. Her gaze flicks to Rapunzel. "As for _you_ , the elites will want to have a nice long chat with you about this."

Anna's eyes sharpen, white flames curling from her fists around her forearms. "I will not allow _any_ of you to hurt her, do you understand me?" the hero growls.

"Look at that," Shadow mocks, "she's taken a liking to you, Golden Flower. That's more than I can say about any of her fellow heroes."

"Athena tried to kill me! Twice!" Anna bellows. "Hades tried to suck me into hell, and Bear bit my fucking hand to send me through the goddamn portal! It was only sheer luck and foresight that saved my ass. Yes, I destroyed the Protector base _knowing_ it wouldn't kill the elites, not with Hades with them, but what they've lost puts them at an extreme disadvantage. Yes, that meant the loss of your fellow junior leaguers and that"—her voice cracks, and she clears her throat—"that is the only thing I regret about my decision." That, and killing Calhoun; but Shadow is unaware that the meta-alien was anything more than an AI, so there's no need bringing it up.

"They only reacted that way because you turned volatile!" Shadow snaps. "You almost consumed Athena in hellfire!"

"Because she had just tried to _kill me!_ " Anna reiterates, her teeth grinding. "I don't know why the elites decided I was no longer worth their time, and thus needed to be killed, and I doubt I'll ever learn a truth that satisfies me. All I know is that I gave the elites two chances to explain themselves— _redeem_ themselves—and they paid me back by trying to kill me on both occasions. I won't be made a fool a third time, so I want you to tell me straight, right now – whose side are you on?"

A wolfish grin spreads over Shadow's lips. "I think that should be fairly obvious by this point," she rumbles, sending a chill down Anna's spine.

Anna clenches her teeth, turning to Rapunzel, younger than her but older than Mulan, yet nowhere near an age to be brought into this debacle. If there could ever be an appropriate age.

"What about you?" Anna asks, flashing a remorseful smile when the meta meets her gaze. "I don't think neutrality is an option anymore."

Rapunzel looks from Anna to Shadow, then back again. Her eyes flick to the side, her teeth trapping her bottom lip and rolling the flesh between them.

An alarm blares in Anna's head, the distorted sound—it appears this function hasn't been integrated yet, either—making the redhead's eyes widen. She tackles Rapunzel aside, saving the pair of them when a hell gate opens above them, and Hades and Black Dragon smash into the floor Anna and the healer once stood.

"Goddamn it," Anna swears, reactivating the white flames she dispelled when she wrapped her arms around Rapunzel. She pushes herself to a knee, her muscles coiling in anticipation.

Black Dragon smiles. "Arson," she rumbles, her fingers elongating into claws. "How nice of you to grace us with your presence."

Anna's eyes widen and, retracting her flames, she grabs Rapunzel and holds her close. "Sorry," Anna grits, "but you're going to have to decide your allegiance along the way."

Then, just like that, the two are off world, in a cave with a rock composition that prevents the use of Athena's powers. In the middle of the sealed cave is an atmospheric converter, changing the poisonous air into something humans can breathe. Anna had set this up years ago, when her contingency bunkers began joining with Athena's. The redhead thought it was better to be safe than sorry and, even though she never thought she'd need this place, her caution has saved her.

Anna releases the med student, walking to the dusty supplies she set up here nearly two years ago. She sets her own bag beside them, her vision swimming.

"Try not to panic," Anna instructs, her words slurring as her brain pulses in angry protest. "There's not as much oxygen here as there is, on . . . Ear—" Anna collapses, her muscles trembling.

Rapunzel blinks out of her stupor. She rushes to Anna's side, shouting things the fire meta can't make out with her hearing fizzing in and out of focus.

"Jesus"—Anna hears, as clear as a bell—"yo—"

"—la? Ca—"

"—n't be— . . . —ow ma— gers am I—"

"Mila!"

A slap stings Anna's cheek, shocking her system back into focus. She glances at Rapunzel, or what she can see of her past the glowing hand in front of her face.

"I—hello?" Anna questions, confused. "What's going on?"

Rapunzel breathes a sigh of relief, her hand falling back into her lap. "The AI in your head caused some serious damage to your brain during that, uh, teleportation?" A question lingers in her eyes, but she doesn't voice it; and Anna doesn't answer it.

"Oh," Anna breathes, trying—and failing—to push herself upright. "Well," she says, with a wince, "looks like we won't be going anywhere for the next couple of days." A couple of weeks is more likely with how slow Chel is integrating her programming, but there's no need to freak out the healer.

At least Anna had the foresight to put enough rations in this hideout to last one person half a year. Plus she has a waste destruction system, because garbage and bodily waste in such a small space would be . . . nasty. So that's a small bright point in this mess of misery.

"You can find water in my bag, if you're thirsty," the redhead says.

Rapunzel nods, numb, and heads for the bag, dropping her own beside it when she gets there.

Anna closes her eyes, unconcerned of her predicament. With her earlier comments, Rapunzel should have been made aware that, without Anna, the healer doesn't have a chance of getting home. And, if that doesn't matter to the med student, then Anna will meet her maker a little sooner than she would have otherwise.

"Uh, Anna," Rapunzel says, curiosity—and confusion—ringing in her tone, "what is this?"

Anna opens her eyes and tilts her head in the direction of her bag. She smiles, spying the old-fashioned hockey-styled face mask, a burning charred skull painted on it.

"That," Anna says, with a hint of pride, "is my new mask."

* * *

Present Day 

Anna gives Allure a strange look, and points to another item she needs moved out of the way. Allure responds with gusto, bouncing over and dragging the chair to the outskirts of the room. Anna would complain, insisting she could do all this herself, but the arm she fell on during her encounter with Shadow is weaker then she lets on. The telepath noticed her favouring one arm and offered to help, and Anna wasn't about to refuse; super strength or not, her right arm is so close to useless at the moment it's not even funny.

Even with the aid Anna cashed in with Scar to first get his technology—even if she wasn't exactly herself for that 'favour'—then his limited medical expertise to revitalize the nerves in her arms, he couldn't fix them. Scar was able to boost the life of Anna's existing nerves, but they've been on a slow track of death ever since. It was the main reason Anna put armour in her costume; to distribute blows from her arms to her torso. To protect what little control of her limbs she still retains.

Sure she can make herself look tough and all-empowering with her super strength, but one direct blow to either of her arms would make them dead weight and nothing more. And, as the months and years drag on, Anna notes that less and less of a blow is required to send her arms into a pathetic, twitching frenzy.

Anna doubts even Golden Flower could help her now.

"Everything's clear," Allure says, glancing around with an excited bounce to her step. "What now?"

Anna twitches a smile despite herself. "Now you stand aside while I initiate direct access," she says.

"Sounds fancy," Allure comments, sitting in the chair she just moved.

"Anna, please think about this," Calhoun urges. "I can only help you so much with what could happen," she cautions, "but if things go south, even with my help, you'll still need Golden Flower's magic to recover."

"Pfft!" Anna airs, waving the comment away. She knows as well as Calhoun why Golden Flower using her powers on Anna will expose her, but Anna also knows that it's bound to happen sooner or later, on accident or on purpose, and it's going to fuck her right up the pooper. Besides, if Anna's lucky she can help the league and leave before the away teams return home. Win-win for everybody.

 _Everyone except for me_ , Anna thinks, but she shakes the thought away. She stopped being worth anything a long time ago.

"I wish you would reconsider," Calhoun says.

"People wish for a lot of things," Anna replies, walking to the console at the front of the room. "For more friends, for more money, for more time," she lists, typing away on the display, "for loved ones to return, for Arson to have never turned evil." She trails off, her jaw muscles bulging. "But that's not the reality we have, nor is it the one we should focus on," she grinds, pressing 'enter' on the display. "Activate direct access, interactive display. Set up mobility ground, protocol IHA."

Calhoun sighs. "As you command, Anna," she murmurs. A track of lights illuminate on the floor, outlining a five by five meter area. The console hums and, after processing completes, a cubby opens on the back of the cylindrical consol. Anna reaches around and grabs the items, the opening shutting when her hand clears.

"What's IHA?" Allure calls.

Anna glances over, noting the excitement colouring the telepath's cheeks, the eager tremor to her muscles. "Internal hacking arena," the redhead answers, securing electronic chips to the corner of each of her eyes. "There are two hacking protocols, three search protocols, two interplanetary protocols and two last resort slash emergency protocols," Anna continues, for the sole sake of speaking to keep her mind focused instead of realizing how _stupid_ she's being. "Every protocol is secured through elite access only, but there are exceptions in two of the three search protocols for Protector hero use, depending on your status.

"Junior access allows the use of LASA," Anna says, wrapping two devices around the shell of her ears, and pushes two inside the canal. "Regular access, like what you heroes hold, allows the use of LASA and MASA. These two arenas allow you to search within Calhoun's database—of information available to you—and databases around Earth, but what information you're allowed to access depends on which protocol you're using.

"Or you could use multiple protocols at once, if you had elite access," the villain adds, stepping through the illuminated boarder of the arena and walking to the center. "If Athena needed access to regular information on another planet, for example—" Anna pauses, noticing Justice and Decryption standing just inside the door. The redhead wonders how long they've been there. "Uh, right," Anna continues, clearing her throat. "In that case Athena would use protocols MASA and RSA, or HASA and RSA. Calhoun, can you show them the meanings of all the direct access acronyms while I finish setting this up?"

Without waiting for a response, Anna closes her eyes and tries connecting with the tech attached to her skin. It was difficult using these telepathy devices in her hero days, when she used them on a regular basis. Using them now will be nothing short of exhausting; and that's not even calculating the mental fortitude she'll require to maintain the hack.

Too bad Allure can't be trusted with elite access. She'd be a natural at this.

"Suicide bulldozing arena?" Decryption questions, both amused and disbelieving.

Anna blinks her eyes open, halting her connection to glance up at the screens on the far side of the room, above where Calhoun's console is. On them, they read:

_Hacking protocols: IHA, EHA (internal and external hacking arena). Search protocols: LASA, MASA, HASA (low, medium and high access search arena). Interplanetary protocols: RSA, ASA (regular and aggressive search arena). Emergency protocols: ORA, SBA (override and suicide bulldozing arena)._

Anna winces. "Don't find too much humour in it," she cautions. "Athena and Hades had both suffered critical injury with a risk of death by using SBA; on two separate occasions in Athena's case."

Decryption blinks, her features sobering.

Allure throws her hand into the air, like a student with a question. "I'm confused," the telepath says. "If all these protocols require some sort of Protector league hero access, how come you can use it?"

 _I inputted Arson's security codes on the console because Calhoun still has me registered as a Protector elite when I'm not bat-shit crazy_ , Anna thinks. "A remaining perk I retain," she answers. "A souvenir from the old elites."

Justice—the only hero present who was around doing the old elites, new name or not—quirks an eyebrow, but doesn't comment.

Anna's lips twitch, the corners upturning into a faint, hollow smile. With how smart the new Protectors are combined with the old junior leaguers to cross-reference information, Anna can only avoid outright lying for so long before she's forced to make a choice; one she's been avoiding since the Ambassador incident.

Or maybe it's a choice she made a long time ago, and she's too scared to admit it.

Holograms light up in Anna's vision; a visual representation of Calhoun's mainframe only she can see.

"Goddamn," Anna utters, wincing when a muscle twitches in her temple. Maybe she should have started out with a less complicated arena to break her mind back in.

Turning in a slow circle, Anna sounds a low whistle. "Damn, Calhoun, you look like a fucking train wreck," she says.

"My organization is just fine, thank you very much," Calhoun clips, through the devices in Anna's ears. "If it looks messy then that's only because I had to find creative hiding spots for all the shit you and the old elites wanted to keep buried."

"Dude," Anna deadpans, gesturing around her, "I've seen crumbling mainframes less clusterfucked than this."

"Just start the hack," Calhoun snips.

Anna barks a laugh. "Calhoun, did I hit a nerve?" she jests.

"I'll hit _your_ nerves if you don't stop," Calhoun warns.

Anna holds up her hands in surrender, a grin on her lips. "Okay, okay," she relents, "let's do this thing." She bounces on the balls of her feet, glancing around her to get a sense of her bearings.

While Anna's used direct access to navigate Calhoun's system before, it was always with one of the search protocols; which cleans everything up, makes things easier to find – doesn't contain the risk of injury. When in the hacking protocol, information is expanded, allowing the user to see every component of anything they desire, but that also means they have to deal with all the security measures. Which, when dealing with regular firewalls, would be fine; but Calhoun's ultimate defenses were created and maintained by Anna herself, and while that gives her a slight advantage, her natural immunity to the toxins has long since become a liability to everybody's health.

 _I totally got this_ , Anna thinks, lying to herself. She lifts her arms to start, when a thought strikes her – when Shadow was chasing her, Anna collapsed on purpose to prevent revealing her physical abilities. If Anna does this, that effort would have been for naught. _But is this worth the risk?_ she wonders.

On one hand Anna could avoid this whole scenario by using her Arson security codes to revitalize her civilian access, but that would raise questions and tie her identities together. On another hand Anna could _still_ avoid this whole scenario by making a LCC for Calhoun to use as leverage whenever she pleases, but that would require explaining the atrocities that burn her memories. In the middle ground is the IHA; it holds little risk of her identities being tied or Calhoun gaining an even greater advantage over her, but if Anna gets hit with the ultimate defenses her mental health is done for; unless Calhoun can get one of the metas to inject her with a suppressant in time, that is.

All in all, the path Anna has chosen is the most dangerous but, by far, the most cowardly. After all, option three is the only one that allows Anna to keep running, keep hiding; keep allowing her to ignore her past as if it would make it go away; even though she knows it will haunt her until the day she dies.

Taking in a deep breath, forcing her mind to blank, Anna falls into a water-style fighting form. Athena had taught it to her years back when she was a junior leaguer—the first junior leaguer, and the only one of the time—but after Anna became a full member she never used it again. She hopes she still retains enough muscle memory to utilize it, or at least enough of it so that no one can peg her movement style as Arson's.

"Give me your best shot, you opportunist piece of shit!" Anna hollers, manoeuvring her body through a series of flowing forms, using her brain and arms to direct her through Calhoun's system. She spins, jumps and twirls – evading the hostile security measures trying to pin her down.

Anna laughs, ducking under an aggressive program and pulling herself further into the system with her hands. Adrenaline floods her veins but, for the first time in years, it makes her feel whole instead of leaving a bitter taste on her tongue.

Anna hoots, a jubilant grin stretching her lips. "Come on, Calhoun; you're not even trying!" she chortles, whooping as she spins and dodges vicious anti-hacking programs; represented with misting bodies, swarms of energy, people, animals, machines, aliens and metas.

"I don't need to try," Calhoun murmurs, her voice sounding in Anna's ears and echoing over the speakers in the room. "You may be good, Anna; maybe even good enough to get through all the checks and stops, but even you can't evade the final series of blockades. Not unless you're willing to walk through them."

Anna's smile freezes, along with her body.

 _That's right_ , Anna ponders, her eyebrows furrowing. Hellfire smoke—HFS for short—is used to completely encase sensitive information and, since it's not a program, the only way to get by it is to either hold the clearance to allow safe passage, or pass through it and weather the affects it has on the body, the mind.

There's no way to get around hellfire smoke – not even if someone is solar systems away with three backfire dampening programs blocking access to the hacker, because this toxin doesn't obey the laws of physics. It doesn't care where someone is, or what method they use; the moment someone accesses the Protector network, Calhoun's database or no, the location of access and the Protector network become one and the same; at least to hellfire smoke.

And the thing with HFS acting as a firewall is that, aside from direct access, no one can ever see it coming. Not that they could stop it if they did.

" _Hey Arson. Anna_."

Anna pales, recognizing the voice. She turns, and the blood drains from her face.

"Athena?" Anna squeaks, tripping over her own heels backing up. "Calhoun!" she cries, her voice cracking. "What the hell is this?"

Athena, displayed on a holographic screen, rubs the back of her neck. Then, after a pause, she sighs and takes off her helm. " _This has been recorded before our mission to rescue you from the Ambassadors. I—_ " she hesitates, shoulders slumping. " _I'm sorry you're all alone now_."

Anna's eyes widen and she spins, examining the data scattered around her. "Contingency recordings," she airs, too low for even herself to hear over the pounding in her own ears. "Calhoun, this isn't right!" she shouts, her fingers trembling. "I shouldn't have—"

"As a civilian you shouldn't be seeing this," Calhoun agrees, this time only speaking through Anna's earpieces. "But you're not using civilian access to utilize this arena, and you're allowed to view these as Arson."

"I didn't open this!" Anna cries, her chest heaving with panicked breathing. "Close it!" she demands. " _Close it!_ "

"In hacking mode you're identified as a security threat," Calhoun says, "and, as a security threat, I am given full discretion to alter, change or add to elimination procedures if it will help in the threat's capture."

"You did this?" Anna demands, hot, angry tears spilling over her cheeks.

"Yes," Calhoun replies.

Anna grabs her hair, sucking in uneven breaths and forcing them out her nose. "You knew I would stop," she grinds. "You knew your words would stop my advance, and you knew where in your database I would be—" Anna jumps, a _clang_ startling her.

" _I don't know what happens!_ " Athena shouts, spittle flying from her mouth. She grips her forehead with both hands. " _There are too many possibilities to account for and I know rambling my way through each of them isn't going to make you feel any better. If you left me behind you don't want to hear me talking about how it's okay I put you in an escape pod instead of myself; if one of the others betrayed me you don't want to hear me telling you to trust them and if you killed me—_ "

Anna's throat clenches and she shuts her eyes, slamming her hands over her ears. "Stop it!" she screams. "Calhoun this isn't fair! _It isn't fair!_ So stop it! Just stop it! _Calhoun!_ " Anna collapses to her knees, curling in on herself. "Make it stop," she sobs. "Please."

" _If this is playing, I'm dead and you're not_."

Anna's muscles lock up, paralyzed by Hades' voice sounding through her earpieces.

" _I don't know how I died, or by whom, or if I went out alone or if some of the others were dragged along with me. Was it me who did it, or someone else? If someone else, was it a villain, an uncategorized meta, a good guy, or one of us? The truth is, it doesn't matter. I'm dead no matter the circumstances and I'm not coming b—_ "

"Abort hack!" Anna screeches, ripping off the piece of technology adorning her head. "Abort! _Abort!_ " she screams, running out of the arena. Tears flood her eyes and overflow. Her whole body trembles.

With a roar, Anna throws the direct access devices.

The three league heroes straighten to attention, but don't interfere.

"Hey!" Calhoun barks. "Those are expensive!"

"Fuck you!" Anna bellows, pointing an accusing finger at the first camera she sees. "Fuck you, fuck your cause, and fuck the goddamn league!" She swings her arms at the fading lights on the floor. "You knew the probability of my success was low even without HFS stonewalling me, and you go and pull _that?_ You fucked up piece of _shit!_ "

"Anna," Calhoun soothes, "it's not like tha—"

" _Fuck you!_ " Anna roars. "I wish Arson left you to _die_ you heartless _core!_ "

Silence engulfs the room, broken only by Anna's ragged breathing.

"I'm out," Anna hisses, whipping at her cheeks in aggressive strokes. "I've had enough of this place; it ruined my life once, I won't let it ruin me again."

"Anna," Calhoun breathes, "I never—"

"Don't you talk to me," Anna warns, pawing at her skull, "don't you dare. I trusted you. The only person in this fucked up galaxy—" she chokes, a sob ripping from her lungs. "I trusted you, Calhoun. I thought you trusted me, too."

"I _do_ trust you, Anna," Calhoun insists. "I trusted you with my installation and my maintenance, and I found companionship in your instance in treating me like a person."

Anna's shaking her head and backing away before Calhoun even finishes. "You might have trusted me once, Calhoun," Anna grits, "but you don't anymore, and you violated _my_ trust with that— that _stunt_." The muscles in Anna's jaw bulges. "You're nothing more than a slab of circuitry."

"Anna— _Anna!_ " Calhoun calls, when Anna storms towards the door.

"Don't talk to me!" Anna bellows.

"Anna, please!" Calhoun begs. "I was only trying to protect you!"

Justice's eyes pinch, and she steps in the way of the exit, blocking Anna's path. "Anna," the hero says, "please listen to Calhoun. She never does anything without good reason—"

"I don't care about her reasons," Anna growls, her pupils sharp with ire and her muscles coiled.

"HFS destroyed your mind once!" Calhoun exclaims, and Anna stiffens. The leaguers perk with attention. "You might not agree with what I did, but I did it because I knew it would make you cancel the hack before you encountered the toxin," Calhoun continues. "You're the only remnant of the old elites I have left since Arson went rouge," she admits, in a heartbreaking whisper. "I can't afford to lose you, too."

Anna clenches and unclenches her hands, on repeat. Her features contort in indecision because, while she can't afford to lose Calhoun, either, the damn bastard _knew_ that playing those contingency messages would fuck with Anna's head. Calhoun knows how badly Anna blames herself, hates herself; and if she doesn't she's horrible at surveillance and picking up on social cues.

"THFS is the toxin that fucked me up, not HFS," Anna says instead, ignoring the heroes in the room. "And don't you dare tell me I don't know what I'm talking about because I do, because I felt the difference – I _lived_ the difference. THFS may be created with HFS, but they're not the same. Not by a long shot. And thank you," she bites, sarcastic, "for revealing that very personal tidbit of my history that I _definitely_ wanted people to know."

Decryptions' eyebrows furrow. "Is HFS the defensive toxin protecting sensitive information in Calhoun's system?" she asks.

Anna gives the hero an odd look. She knows the league doesn't know her two elite abilities by their proper names, but to not even know the acronyms when one of them is used by the league? That . . . is a little odd.

"Uh, yeah," Anna deadpans. "And it's only a toxin in small, controlled doses. After that it becomes deadly." _To everyone but me_ , Anna thinks. _Well_ , she amends; _at least it used to be_. Now exposure to it, from herself or others, turns her into a monster; courtesy of the Ambassadors.

Decryption rubs her jaw. "I see," she utters. "Is that how you got hurt, trying to navigate Calhoun's systems?"

Not even fucking close, but Anna's not about to admit that. "I don't like talking about it," she replies. "It was traumatic enough the first time round. I'd rather not relive the memories."

"Where else would you be exposed to HFS?" Decryption asks. "Is it a natural toxin found in our solar system, or another? Or does it have to be created in a lab?"

"Hm," Anna hums. How to answer without answering? "HFS isn't natural, but it can't be created with chemicals, either. It's been replicated before, in a loose sense of the word, but nothing that can compare to what Calhoun has in her arsenal."

Decryption eyes Anna, eyes hard. "Then how did you get access to it?" she asks, accuses.

"Pure dumb luck, honestly," Anna says. "If it can be considered 'luck' at all."

Justice holds up a hand, stopping Decryption from firing another volley of questions. "How do you know all of this?" she asks.

"How do you _not?_ " Anna returns. "HFS has been used in this base's traitorous AI since her installation. Hell! It was used in the protective programs the league had _before_ installing fuck-face."

"Hey," Calhoun snaps.

"Fuck off I still hate you," Anna snarls. "Anyway, as I was saying; even without me around to maintain HFS and all that shit, someone in the league still should have been made aware of at least HFS's _existence_ in case there was ever a containment breech."

"Stop blaming me for _you_ setting the 'information availability' to elite!" Calhoun rebukes.

"It wasn't my decision, you goddamn cock sucker!" Anna spits. "It was a collective decision by the old elites that I had _input_ in and, if I _must_ remind you – every piece of information in your 'elite access only' category is subject to reveal if the case arises that it _needs_ to be known or else dire circumstances will ensue."

"The same could be said about Arson's whole file considering what she's become," Calhoun threatens, and Anna grinds her teeth, her eyes flashing. "You know why I haven't? Because I knew the league didn't need the information in order to survive." Translation; 'I was able to take care of the situation myself.'

Anna glares at a camera. "So help me god," she hisses, "if you don't stop mocking me I will throw your core—"

"Okay, both of you cool off," Justice intervenes. She eyes the first camera she sees, considering Calhoun's admission, but doesn't address it. Her opinion on the matter shows in the muscles jumping in her jaw, however. "I don't know what you did in that arena, Calhoun, but no matter what intentions you had, you hurt Anna. And Anna, you're letting what Calhoun did get to your head and it's making you lose perspective. I don't know what happened and, frankly, I don't care. The league needs your old access reinstated because we need it to fend off threats. Namely Arson," Justice admits, "but it doesn't stop at her."

Anna's eyebrows hike up her forehead. "As fucked up as Arson is," Anna says, "she's not the type of person you defend against. Especially not here."

"Anna," Calhoun warns.

At the three blank looks facing her, Anna pinches the bridge of her nose. "They don't know about _that_ either, do they?" she asks.

"How could they?" Calhoun scolds. "That requires elite level—"

"There are always exceptions," Anna interrupts, "as I've _just explained_."

"Anna—"

"I swear to god if you try talking anything other than business with me right now I will spill coffee all over your hardware," Anna promises.

Calhoun sighs. "I'm not sorry, if that's what you want to hear," she says.

"I don't want to hear anything from you until I can undo all the mental fucking you did to my brain," Anna snaps, her eyes hardening. "Maybe not even then."

"Stop being a child," Calhoun berates. "What I did isn't a _fraction_ of what you would have suffered had you encountered HFS. Besides, you should have watc—"

"There is no 'should' here," Anna interjects. "There's a _reason_ I ignore those files."

"Because you're stupid, self centered and arrogant?" Calhoun wagers. "I agree."

Anna grinds her teeth. "Calh—"

"No," Calhoun interrupts. "You don't get to criticize me when you _ran away_ when the league needed you the most. We lost Athena, Hades, Black Dragon, Bear, we might as well of lost Arson, and you disappeared off the face of the Earth. The junior leaguers needed your experience, and you _fled_ like a _coward_."

Anna balls her fingers into fists. "Arson—"

"Has no say in your life, Anna!" Calhoun insists. "Arson, whether her initial actions where her decision or not, made the choice to _stick by her actions_ and become a villain. You, Anna, have the choice _right now_ to decide if you stick by _your_ actions by either running away, again, or if you stop running from the things that haunt you and _make things right_."

Anna looses a holler of frustration, grabbing her bangs while pacing back and forth. Calhoun knows as well as Anna that separating her personas isn't as easy as that, but damn it if the former meta-alien doesn't know how to push her buttons.

"Help us," Calhoun continues, softer. "We need you."

"No, you don't!" Anna rebuttals. "Or maybe you do, I don't know," she amends, "but what I do know is that the only thing that been keeping me together the last couple of years is not facing the shit that tore me apart." Tears well in her eyes unbidden, and Anna grits her teeth. "I never planned on staying here for more than a few days, no matter what I agreed to with Shadow, because even with the old elites dead my mistakes still linger here."

"Your mistakes will haunt you no matter where you go," Calhoun challenges.

"Yeah," Anna agrees, "but at least if I'm away from here no one else will suffer with me. Besides," she quirks a humourless smile, "I'd prefer not getting my kneecaps shot out by Archer."

Justice hums. "You get on her bad side, or something?" she asks.

"Fuck Archer!" Allure dismisses. "Out of all the disturbing and self-detrimental shit coming out of Anna's mouth, _that_ is the tidbit you focus on? Not the fact that she's not dealing with her issues and, as far as any of us are aware, _isn't on medication?_ "

Justice narrows her eyes at the telepath. "Because slapping the issue in her face is _such_ a better approach," she scolds.

"I'm more interested in how you know who Archer is, Anna," Decryption intervenes, before an argument breaks. "As far as I'm aware, you two lost touch before Archer even considered being a hero."

"I wouldn't call her a hero," Anna deflects, "but yeah, you're right; she told me to get out of her life once everything hit the fan and, instead of refusing, I walked away. Maybe if I hadn't she wouldn't be so . . . well, you've worked with her."

"She's a fucking lunatic," Allure says, her month getting away from her. "I'm seriously surprised she hasn't gotten herself or someone else killed yet." Decryption waves Allure away, smacking her a few times to make her shut up.

Justice rolls her eyes. "How did you meet Archer, anyway?" she asks.

Anna hums, glancing away. "Through the league, originally," she admits. "Athena had business with Archer's mother and, after she became a lasting contact, I visited their family whenever I was in the area. So when a Scottish firecracker with a familiar temper became a hero, it wasn't too hard to put the pieces together."

Justice hums, a critical glint to her eye. "I don't recall you ever being involved in league business outside this base," she says.

Anna resists the urge to roll her eyes. "Justice," she says, voice flat, "I've been helping the league before Arson become a junior leaguer, let alone a fucking elite. But you know, yeah, you're right; I was confined to business on base, but I _travelled_ with the elites because I was _friends_ with them. Friends, mind you, that I don't fucking have anymore because Arson blew their fucking brains out as thoroughly as she destroyed the Ambassador fleet that rained down on our goddamn heads when the pieces hit the atmosphere. Despite what you may think of me or the old elites, they—including Arson, and Archer's mother, and the countless others who died that day—were all I had and I lost them. Judge me and my actions all you want, but I lost more than any of you could have fucking imagined that day, and I can never get any of it back; not one _fucking_ shred of it. So don't you narrow your goddamn eyes at me like I'm a fucking outsider, because I'm the closest thing to the old elites you could ever acquire outside of Arson herself."

Heavy silence falls over the four of them. Decryption works her jaw. Justice avoids eye contact. Allure shifts in uneasy twitches.

Allure forces an awkward laugh. "No wonder you have issues," she jests, or tries to.

"No kidding," Anna mutters, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Where the _fuck_ is she, Poseidon?" someone shouts, the intensity subdued by barriers and distance.

Justice pales. "Uh, Calhoun?" she questions. "Did Zeus and Archer dock?"

"Yes, they did," Calhoun confirms. Anna pales.

"Did you, by chance, forewarn them about Anna's presence?" Justice asks.

"No, I did not," Calhoun says. "And Poseidon just spilled the beans. Unintentionally, of course. None of you updated her on the situation, and was thus unaware of the danger."

"Lovely," Decryption utters.

"Calhoun," Anna says, "does anyone in here have the clearance to initiate this room's lockdown procedures?"

"Fuck _our_ access," Justice intercedes. "This is a matter of internal security. _Calhoun_ has the authority to lockdown this room which, yes, you are going to do or else someone is going to get hurt."

"You could use your powers on her," Calhoun drawls.

Allure holds up her hands. "Sorry dude, but I do _not_ want to drink this early in the day," she says.

Decryption gives her an odd look. "Who said anything about drinking?" she asks.

"I did," Allure says. "There's no way I'm going into her brain sober."

"Which leaves me," Justice says, "because Decryption is a non-combatant along with Anna; and with Archer as mad as I think she is, I'd end up having to rip all her limbs off to stop her."

" _Anna!_ " Archer bellows, her voice, while muffled, much closer than before. "Get out here so I can talk to you!"

"Right. Talk," Anna deadpans.

Red lights flash throughout the room, and the sound of steal bolts activating fills the air.

Anna raises an eyebrow. "Why the change of heart?" she asks.

"Nothing important," Calhoun replies. Anna sends a camera a skeptical stare. "Okay," the disembodied voice relents, "it might have something to do with Archer nocking an explosive arrow."

Justice blinks. "Wait," she says, "what?"

 _Boom_.

Anna's eyebrows fall into an unamused line. She walks over to one of the pushed aside the tables and lays down on it. Archer has to run out arrows at some point. Hopefully before anyone starves, or gets the bright idea to continue questioning her.

 _I never should have agreed to come here_ , Anna thinks, staring up at the ceiling. And, while right considering Archer and Golden Flower, Anna doubts she ever could have refused. The redhead has been doing the league's job—the jobs they could have never done right because none of the new heroes can make the hard choices—for so many years without ever feeling like a good guy. Anna knows she deserves that after what she's done, intentional or not, but damn it if she doesn't crave her actions being justified by her peers.

 _And what a great job I'm doing_ , Anna thinks, berating herself with a bitter smile. _But at least I'm helping_ , she concedes, watching Decryption gather the direct access devices out of the corner of her eye.

The old elites held to many secrets for their own good, Anna knows, but it appears when the deciding torch was passed to her, Anna locked the secrets even tighter. Maybe if the villain had had the courage to come clean after the THFS had cleared from her brain—

But that never would have worked. Or maybe it would have, Anna doesn't know – doesn't care to know. All that matters is that the choices she's made, no matter how it's made her look, has kept Earth stable and safe. Besides the times her eyes gleamed red and silver, that is. That's a whole other beast Anna dreads contending with, but does so all the same.

"Anyone want to play a game?" Allure asks, with forced levity. "It'll help pass the time."

"No thanks," Anna mumbles, closing her eyes. "But feel free to test out direct access while you wait – all of you have two protocols to choose from, after all. Besides," she says, twitching half a smile, "I'm curious to how fast you'll master it, Allure."

Decryption huffs and sputters in offence. "Why _her_?" she questions, scandalized. "My IQ—"

"Has nothing to do with direct access," Anna hums, lacing her fingers over her stomach. "What you need are quick reflexes, a sharp mind and, most of all, some sort of telepathy; whether in receiving or transmitting."

" _What?_ " Allure blurts, an excited giggle escaping her.

Anna smiles despite herself. "Yeah," she confirms. "I was never all that atoned with it, but Athena ruled direct access like it was her bitch. It was memorizing watching her; it was as if nothing could stand in her way. Then she'd get cocky and use SBA, and she'd be human again." Her voice chokes up and Anna pinches the bridge of her nose, her eyebrows pinching. "Jesus I miss her," she hisses, using all her strength to keep from crying.

While Anna can't see the heroes reactions, she can hear the shuffling; feel the awkward weight in the air. Anna shifts onto her side, her back facing the room. She doesn't want to deal with them anymore.

 _Boom_.

It's going to be a long couple of hours.


	12. Forgive Me, Old Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [kristaon ](http://kristaon.tumblr.com/)(tumblr; formerly itsnotkristoff) for beta-ing my work.
> 
> Until further notice, all future chapter updates will occur on AO3 _only_. The story can be found under the same title and username.
> 
> * * *

Three Years Ago 

Mulan can't claim that she's been the best leader. If anything, her leadership capabilities have fallen short in more than one instance since her ascension to Arson's former position. The populous—far from happy about her 'sub-par performance,' as they call it—blame it on her age and her familial connection to Arson, but neither are true. Mulan's leadership isn't affected by her being a mere eighteen, nor is her skill altered by her depleted opinion of an ex-hero. What hampers her performance the most, Mulan wagers, is the fact that she never wanted to be leader in the first place.

Maybe, the shadow hero ponders, that's why she finds herself in this situation. She knew this mission was better left alone, but she sought it out like a moth to flame. Perhaps this is her way of showing the league that she isn't the leader they're looking for, or to give herself an excuse to step down. If she gets out alive, that is.

Mulan tests the restraints binding her to the wall once again, her gaze flicking to the flames floating around the room, systematically eliminating any and every shadow within three meters of the hero. Beyond the flames is the hulking form of Mechanical Warfare; a towering beast of a man pumped so full with implants that, in some places, they tear through his skin. Beside him stands Arson, her form so dwarfed in comparison she might as well be a child standing next to a giant.

If only Mechanical Warfare could actually crush Arson like a child. It would solve so many problems.

"This is the new leader of the Protectors?" Mechanical Warfare rumbles, a manic grin splitting his lips, showing the faint metal gleam of his bleached titanium teeth. "She doesn't compare to the old elites at all."

Mulan holds her tongue, but she sends the man a searing glare. How many times must people insist on telling her she doesn't live up to her predecessors before they realize there isn't a damn point? Of _course_ she isn't going to live up to the old elites. Mulan doubts any meta ever could.

Arson hums in affirmation, her gaze flicking aside. "You can't blame her," she murmurs, "she was never afforded the chance to complete her training."

Mulan narrows her eyes, examining the fire master through the shadows cast upon her features. Is the villain . . . defending her? Mulan shakes her head. She promised herself she'd stop thinking like that after what happened six months ago.

Mechanical Warfare cackles, clamping a so-called familiar hand on Arson's shoulder. It's meant as a—rough—sign of companionship, Mulan knows, but she can tell by Arson's glare that the fire master doesn't appreciate the gesture.

"You'd think she'd be up to speed by now with all the practice we've been giving her," Mechanical Warfare says, a glint to his eyes that makes Mulan queasy.

"Remove your hand," Arson clips, her eyes hardening.

Mechanical Warfare smirks, his grip tightening. "With you at the top of the villain food chain," he continues, as if Arson hadn't spoken, "only an ultimate meta like Archangel has a chance to stop us. And since neither her nor Reaper have been seen for—"

In the blink of an eye, flames flash and Arson lashes out, her fist snapping Mechanical Warfare's head back with a _crunch_ , blood spurting from his nose.

"Don't you defy me again," Arson snarls, her eyes flashing with malice far exceeding the severity of the crime. She points to the door. "Get the fuck out."

An unnerving grin coils on Mechanical Warfare's lips and he dips into a mocking bow. "As you command, your highness," he drones, before ducking through the doorway. Arson slams it shut and locks it behind him, a growl rumbling in her chest for no reason Mulan can fathom.

Flames spring to life in the remainder of the room, lighting up the empty space.

Arson runs a hand through her bangs and, with a heavy sigh, she leans and slides down the wall, her head _thunk_ -ing against the cement when her butt hits bottom. The villain stares at the ceiling, the angle emphasizing the dark half-moons under her eyes.

Mulan watches, her muscles taunt with adrenaline and dread. Despite her mental preparations, she isn't ready to die or face the horrors of torture. The old elites had made peace with these possibilities, Mulan's sure, but _damn it_ she's still a teenager. No one her age should be forced to accept a fate such as this.

With a sharp inhale, Arson closes her eyes and drapes her arms over her raised knees. The three rectangular ports on either side of her mask light up and slide out of the way. Mulan's heart falls into her stomach. So _that's_ how Arson wants to take her out.

"Hades' had a secret love of black berries," Arson whispers, so quiet Mulan barely hears it over her heart pounding in her ears.

Mulan has to swallow the fear creeping up her throat three times before she can croak, "Excuse me?"

Arson blinks her eyes open, but her gaze remains trained in blank attention at the ceiling. "The last three Christmases before the Ambassador incident, Athena had bought out an entire store's worth of blackberries," Arson continues, her tone soft and . . . pained? "She would hide them somewhere—no one knows where—until the twenty-fifth, when she would proceed to deliver the berries to wherever Hades was spending Christmas. Those were some of the only times I saw him laugh and cry at the same time."

Mulan's covered features—not that it matters with Arson—twist in uncertainty, and she doesn't respond.

"Athena and Hades were siblings, you know," Arson says, with a mirthless chuckle. "Everybody is aware of that, I'm sure—they didn't exactly hide that fact—but did you know they used to hate each other? They bickered like enemies when they thought I wasn't listening until one day, sometime after I joined the league, they stopped fighting. I never figured out why, but it didn't matter; it was enough knowing they were happy." The villain's voice cracks, her eyes misting over. Her eyebrows furrow, and the few flames illuminating her face flicker away.

"Don't get me wrong, Shadow," Arson rumbles. "I may have loved my teammates to their dying breaths and thereafter, but I'm still the one who killed them. I wish I could say it was because it was necessary, but it wasn't. It was pointless, and a waste of some of the best heroes the universe has ever known.

"And I need to die for that crime, I know," Arson says, the glowing red lines on her uniform sending eerie shadows over the sallow plains of her eyes and temples. "That time won't be anytime soon, I'm afraid, but when it does come I'll be sure the league gets the first crack at me." She chuckles, dull and hollow. "There's a sweet irony about dying by the hands of the league, and it's a day I long for, I assure you."

The villain pushes to her feet with a grunt and Mulan notices that, despite having functionality of her arms again—without the aid of Scar's over-the-skin technology—Arson favours standing by use of her legs and back. Flames spring to life around the villain, ridding all the shadows surrounding her. Mulan notes the bitter remorse in Arson's eyes, the defeated slump of her shoulders.

"One last thing," Arson says, retracting her flames around Mulan; casting her in shadows. "If you come around here again, I will kill you."

Mulan sinks into the shadows, comfort overcoming her as she slips through her bindings and hides in the darkness. Arson glances around the room, trying—and failing—to locate the hero.

The fire master hums, turning heel and heading for the door. "If you're still here, go home," Arson murmurs, her voice muffled as the openings of her mask reseal themselves. "You aren't doing anyone any favours by staying." With that, Arson exits the room; bathing the windowless space in total blackness.

Despite Arson's suggestion, Mulan stays for a while longer, her form misting in and out of being but never moving. Her mind goes back to Hades' general contingency message without conscious thought, and she finds herself doubting the universe's—her _own_ —opinion on who Arson has become. Have they all been wrong this whole time?

 _No_ , Mulan thinks, taking her thumbnail between her teeth. The Arson she knew would never slaughter millions of people, nor would she violate another living creature by way of torture or . . . other means. Then again, the Arson Mulan knows now wouldn't have let her go, warning or not.

It makes Mulan think, what changed? Why would Arson go from murdering an alien fleet, her teammates and half a state to letting heroes go free of charge?

 _Then again_ , Mulan considers, her eyebrows furrowing, she can't help but note that there have only been two instances in which Arson has truly lost her marbles – the time during and after the Ambassador incident, and the time during and after the South Carolina incident. Both debacles demonstrated Arson's unwavering brutality—most recollections of the villain's actions leaving Mulan sick to the stomach—but besides those times Arson's known activity in the villainous field is scarce at best. The league never knows if Arson is on world or off-world, and they never know where her exact location is unless the villain advertises it; aside from the times Calhoun gets a lock on Arson without rhyme or reason. Which, now that Mulan thinks about it, leads to another oddity; Calhoun herself.

Even with all Arson has done, Calhoun hasn't unclassified any of Arson's file.

One could reason that Arson did something to the AI when she entered the base and beat Shang, Jane and herself out cold a few weeks after the Ambassador incident, but Mulan doubts it. Calhoun has always been a crafty AI, and is notorious for outmaneuvering any number of restrictions just because she can. So if Arson did something to Calhoun, the AI would have been able to work around it by now. Which leaves the question, why hasn't she? What does Calhoun know that the league doesn't?

It might have something to do with Arson's eyes changing colour—a trait Mulan had never witnessed until Arson's villainous debut—but from Scar's vague warning during the South Carolina incident, it should act as _more_ motivation for Calhoun to reveal what she knows. If Arson is unstable, she poses a direct threat to the league's safety. Yet Calhoun keeps silent.

Mulan frowns, and shadows herself back to the Protector base, off in the corner of the living room.

The present heroes, armed to the teeth, jump to their feet, relief colouring their showing features.

Shang rushes Mulan, scooping her into a tight embrace. Jane's eyes tighten, her fingers clenching into fists to restrain herself from doing the same. As far as the other leaguers are aware, she's Justice – a new meta who joined the league a scarce few weeks prior. Mulan's heart throbs at the loss, even though nothing has really changed.

"You're alright!" Shang sobs, burying his helm covered head into the crook on Mulan's neck, much to her discomfort.

"Yeah," Mulan airs, her eyebrows furrowing. "How long have I been gone?" she asks. Being locked in a closed off room didn't do much for her sense of time. Nor did being knocked out for the good majority of her stay.

Blizzard's eyebrows rise far enough to disappear under the only open section of her icy helm. "You've been missing for three days," she says, her eyes pinching in what Mulan can only guess is disquiet. "We had Calhoun searching for you everywhere, but she couldn't find you. Are you alright? Are you injured?"

"Aside from a few fractures, scrapes and bruises you are physically healthy," Golden Flower chimes, her fingers drumming against her thighs. "Permission to heal you?"

"I—" Mulan frowns. "Maybe later," she replies, peeling herself away from Shang. She avoids looking him in the eye, not wanting to see his concern. "Calhoun," she calls, tilting her head up. "I hereby declare myself temporarily unfit for active leadership. Please log this and recognize the next chosen leader of the league." She glances to the heroes around her, taking mental note of their range of reactions. "Talk among yourselves about who you think will make a suitable replacement. I'll weigh in with my opinion on the matter later."

"What?" Shang blurts, waving his hands in useless gestures. Similar outbursts come from behind him. "You're a good leader!" he insists. "What happened to you? Where you tortured? Did—"

"Enough, General," Mulan murmurs, silencing her friend. She looks every one of the present heroes in the eye. "My step down doesn't have to be permanent, if none of you wish it, but I do need a break. With everything going on with the villains and Arson—" she grits her teeth, her eyes pinching.

Shang's eyes flash. "Does Arson have something to do with this?" he booms, ire scarring his patient features. Mulan nods against her better judgement. It's not truly Arson's fault for her decision, after all – just the final straw. "I'll kill her!" Shang roars, swinging his fists in a pointless show of aggression.

"General," Jane tries, reaching out a hesitant hand.

"No!" Shang spits, glaring at his friend. "Arson has done enough damage as it is, and now she's trying to remove the only stability the league has had since she destroyed the Ambassador fleet and murdered the old elites!"

Hercules and Allure amble into the living room, attracted by the commotion. Their eyes light up upon seeing Mulan safe and sound, but the heated argument keeps their excitement at bay.

"Whether that's true or not, we can't fight her!" Blizzard snaps, cracking down on the quarrel. "We tried and we failed, and we made everything worse. If it wasn't for Scar and whoever held a goddamn favour over him we would all be dead right now. Let me repeat; we, would, all, be, _dead_. We have to accept the fact that, until the league and its members get stronger, we're only operational under the _grace_ "—she spits the word—"of Arson. So until we're in a position to oppose her, we can't do shit against her, no matter what she's done or what she continues to do."

Mulan raises an eyebrow, her interest peaked. Such sound logic. When voting time comes, she knows who she's picking for the new leader.

Shang throws up his hands, loosing a cry of frustration. "Arson could tear us apart before we get anywhere near that stage!" he shouts.

"Yes, she could," Blizzard agrees. "In fact, as it stands, she could kill all of us anytime she pleases, but she doesn't. We may never know why she doesn't, but it doesn't matter so long as she gives us the time to make the league and its members as strong as they were in the days of the old elites."

 _But it does matter_ , Mulan refutes, in the safety of her own head. Why _isn't_ Arson picking them off, and letting them go when they're captured and helpless? Arson knows better than anyone how strong the league can become and how, untamed, it could become strong enough to take her down. Yet, aside from both incidents, Arson does nothing but slink in the background; out of sight, out of mind.

"But Shadow—" Shang tries, gesturing uselessly at the aforementioned hero.

Mulan starts, questioning if she spoke her thoughts aloud before realizing the current debate still rages.

Blizzard's eyes pinch. "Isn't a leader we can afford to lose, but we will if we push her," the winter hero soothes, even though the muscles around her eyes are strained. "In the meantime, we'll have to manage without her."

"What's going on with Shadow?" Hercules asks, her lips twisting in confusion. She turns to Mulan, imploring. "Are you sick?"

Mulan shakes her head. "No, I'm—"

"Arson got to her," Shang snaps, cutting off his friend.

Hercules' eyes harden. Allure shifts, a subconscious hand rubbing her temples from a pain long passed.

"I see," Hercules' clips, her fingers twitching.

Mulan sighs. "Look, it's not like tha—"

"Don't defend her," Shang says, interrupting the shadowy hero once again. A ping of annoyance wiggles into Mulan's chest, and settles there. "Whatever she did to you—"

"She didn't do—" Mulan tries.

"—I promise you she'll pay for what she's done," Shang finishes.

Mulan works her teeth, waiting to see if her friend has any further inclination to speak before saying, slowly, "Arson was there, but she didn't do anything to me." Besides turn her world upside down with a few carefully chosen words, that is; but she's not going to say that. Mulan doubts any of the heroes in front of her would be accepting of the idea that Arson isn't as evil as they believe her to be, not that Mulan blames them. She can't believe _she's_ entertaining the possibility, let alone anyone else.

The muscles in Shang's jaw jump. Jane frowns, glancing between the two former junior leaguers, weighing her emotional inclination with the importance of her new identity. Blizzard, for her part, stays out of it. Even being in the league for a year, Blizzard can't say she's closer to any of the other heroes then she was at the beginning. Not with everyone being separated by secrets and superhero identities and a general unwillingness to trust with the defection of Arson and Scar.

"Look," Mulan sighs, "I know you all want to rush into blaming Arson, because it's easy and it makes sense, but she's not at fault this time. And if you want to know 'what she did to me' in case you think I'm lying then fine; she was babbling about black berries." Mulan throws up her arms at the lackluster reveal. She finds an odd type of amusement in the bewildered eyes that stare back at her.

"Yes, you heard me right – _black berries_ ," Mulan repeats, for good measure. "Aside from getting my ass handed to me by Mechanical Warfare—yes, _not_ Arson—I got out of the ordeal with minimal damage. So why don't I want to be leader anymore, you ask?" she says, posing the question before her teammates can. Angry tears well in her eyes. "Because being in that situation with metas who have been playing this game far longer then I reminded me that I'm only _eighteen_." A lump rises in her throat. Her fingers tremble.

"I was forced to take over the league when I was seventeen because Scar had fled and neither General or Tarzan were in any state to lead," Mulan warbles, tears racing down her cheekbones. "I couldn't mourn the death of the old elites, or the deaths of my friends, or the betrayal of Arson or Scar because I had to keep the league from falling apart.

"But _I'm_ falling apart!" Mulan shouts, hiccupping. "The old elites ever prepared the junior leaguers for the possibility of us having to fend for ourselves, because they never expected all of them to die or desert at the same time. So it was left to me to pull the fractured pieces of the league back together when I didn't even know how they were supposed to fit. Yet all of you stare at me like I'm supposed to know what I'm doing but I _don't_ ; I don't even know the full capabilities of my own powers because I never completed my training. So how the hell am I supposed to help any of you?"

Mulan sobs, the weight of the last year concaving her chest. "I was just a kid," she croaks, "trying to head the spear against horrors beyond imagination because no one else could, when I myself was as blindsided as the rest of you when a curveball swung our way. I never wanted this!" she cries, collapsing to her knees and clawing at the tiled floor. "I just want the old elites to come back," she bawls, her fabric mask sagging from the tears weighing it down. "I want Athena to laugh like this was all a sick test, and Hades to flop on the couch like he doesn't care, and Bear to comfort us, and Black Dragon to treat us like we're all an inconvenience, and Arson to apologize for having to fool us but it's going to be fine now.

"I miss the old elites," Mulan chokes, burying her face in her hands. "W-with everything that's been going on I've been too busy to realize they were gone, b-but they're g-gone, aren't they? They're dead and Arson killed them, a-and they're never coming b-back."

Appearances be damned, Jane staggers to Mulan's side and falls beside her, pulling the breaking hero into the tightest hug she can without hurting the girl. "I miss them, too," Jane hisses, no more than a broken whisper. Mulan cracks completely, wailing and clinging to Jane's breastplate like it's the only thing in the world keeping her tethered.

Shang drops to his knees opposite Jane, and rubs comforting circles on Mulan's lower back. "I'm so sorry," Shang whispers, hanging his head in a show of shame Mulan can't see.

Blizzard shifts, glancing at the heroes around her—including Zeus, to the winter hero's surprise—and waves them out of the room. Allure's features twist at the notion, and instead steps forward until she's in front of Mulan, holding her hand.

Blizzard watches in fascination as the other heroes follow suit; settling in whatever space they can find around their broken leader and, for the first time, allowing themselves to remember how much the events of this last year really effected them.

Golden Flower pats the floor beside her, and Blizzard obeys the silent command. She sits, dispels her cuirass, and leans back-to-back with Hercules; feeling the quivering muscles of the massive woman hiccup and stagger against her own.

Golden flower reaches over, interlacing Blizzard's fingers with her own, and Blizzard doesn't protest. She needs this just as much as everyone else.

* * *

Present Day 

Mulan glances up from her book, taking stock of Anna's condition once more.

The shadowy hero had arrived at base an hour or two prior, after what appeared to be an epic battle of explosives and blades ranging from throwing knives to tridents. Blood littered the floor, the walls, the furniture—which had been moved to the edges of the room, for whatever reason—and weaponry, all on stark display as the guilty parties stared at Mulan with wide, panicked eyes.

Everyone had gotten off with minor injuries—considering the circumstances—but when Mulan demanded everyone go to their rooms until she figured out what the hell happened, Merida jumped Anna and stabbed her. That display made the entire situation make sense and, after requesting Calhoun send out an emergency shuttle for Rapunzel, the league heroes—who _aren't_ insane—proceeded to lock Merida in a holding cell.

Jane was able to transfer Anna to the medical ward with her hardened light abilities, and Belle was able to stem the bleeding long enough for Rapunzel to arrive—whenever that may be—but Anna . . . doesn't look so good.

Anna's breath is weak, ragged, and in some terrifying moments it sounds wet – as if blood is leaking into her lungs.

"How are you feeling?" Mulan asks. A stupid question, she knows, but she doesn't know how else to word, 'how shitty does it feel having a stab wound in the chest?'

Anna smiles, a small twitch of the lips, but it still manages to reach her eyes. "Other than the obvious agony," she jests, weak, "I'm doing good. Better than good, even."

Mulan frowns behind her mask, noting the displaced look on content on Anna's features. In an odd sort of way, Mulan gets the feeling that the technician _wants_ to die; but that can't be right. She _knows_ Anna; the loss of the elites, even with how close Anna was with them—especially Athena, Mulan's brain can't help but add—it wouldn't have been enough to trigger a death wish this pronounced, not unless the losses were amplified by something else.

"When Golden Flower gets here," Anna airs, swallowing against the dryness of her throat, "I only want her and you in the room when she starts healing me. Everyone else I want locked out."

"I'll lock the door now and only let Golden Flower enter when she arrives," Calhoun replies, before Mulan can even think to respond. "I presume you'd like me to activate sound cancelation, as well?"

Anna hums her agreement, letting her eyelids fall shut.

Mulan frowns. "I don't understand," she says, "why is any of this necessary?"

Neither AI or human reply for a long couple of seconds; although Anna does quirk a mirthless smile.

Calhoun breathes a sigh; or the AI equivalent, at least. "Let's just say, when Golden Flower arrives, the probability of heightened noise is inevitable," she answers, as cryptic as always. Mulan shrugs, long since used to the AI's deflective antics, even if she doesn't like them.

"You know," Anna croaks, with a pathetic cough, "Athena owned a body-sized, white Bengal tiger plush, and she would cuddle it like a person whenever she had to sleep alone." The ginger flashes a cheerless smile, tears gathering from her closed lids and clumping along her eyelashes. "It's still in her room, here in the base, but no one can get to it because the old elite living quarters are locked off." Her smile fades. "I wish I could have retrieved it, after—" Anna cuts herself off, her jaw locking.

"Try not to speak too much," Mulan utters, glancing towards the door. If Anna was in any other state Mulan would be thrilled to hear new stories about the old elites, but the ailing sound of the technician's voice makes the hero uncomfortable.

"I wouldn't if it were different circumstances," Anna murmurs, her chest spasming. Her face contorts in anguish, but still she grits, "But, even if Golden Flower gets here in time, I'm going to die."

Mulan examines Anna, unable to contain her rising worry. "Golden Flower can heal most everything," the hero assures.

"She can't heal what she doesn't want to heal," Anna corrects, with a weary smile. "I'm afraid she's more likely to ring my neck than repair any damage I've sustained. I can't say you'll stop her, after you learn."

Mulan sets her book aside, worry etching into the lines of her forehead. "What makes you say that?" she asks. The hero can't fathom any situation where she would be willing to let someone kill Anna. Sure the technician has problems, but who doesn't after what Arson's done?

Anna opens her eyes, staring at the ceiling through a mist of tears. "Arson released the Beast Master on Berk," she states, road blocking Mulan's line of questioning. Anna voice is factual again, and her face is blank aside the lingering wetness in her eyes. "The league should apprehend him, and hand him over to the king and queen. It will solidify Earth's hazy relations with Berk, and it will make them a powerful ally and trading partner. With what's to come, you're going to need them."

"What are you talking about?" Mulan pushes. She hasn't heard of any of this. Why hadn't Calhoun informed the league? Did she not know herself? Or, perhaps, is it because the league turned its focus solely on Earth after the old elites died? "Why will we need Berk?" Mulan continues, her fingers trembling. "What's coming?"

"As much as I loathe who Arson's become," Anna whispers, her eyelids drooping, "she has done the Earth a great many services after the Ambassador incident, and no one except Scar, Chel and I are aware of the extent of it." She smiles. "Tragic, really, but it's not like she deserves the credit. Besides," Anna mumbles, "she's already done all she can with her ailing health."

Mulan's heart lodges in her throat. "Arson is dying?" she asks. She's not sure if this should make her happy or upset. It contorts her emotions enough that she almost overlooks the detail of _who the hell is Chel?_

"Mhm," Anna hums, closing her eyes once more. "She's been dying for a good couple years now, with all the trauma her body has sustained. Scar has done what he can for her—he's quite good at what he does—but he's no healer, and the only healers in the universe powerful enough to aid Arson wouldn't help her even if it meant their death."

Mulan runs her fingers through her hair, trying to keep track of the disembodied information being thrown at her. She feels like she's missing half the picture, grasping blindly into the darkness for answers that might not even be there.

"How do you know any of this?" Mulan whispers, trying—and failing—to fit the pieces together.

"It's hard not to, considering," Anna murmurs. She chuckles, wet and airy. "I don't think Golden Flower is going to make it," she says, once again changing the topic. Mulan struggles to keep up.

"She will," Mulan refutes. "Our vessels are a lot faster than they were in your day."

"No, they're slower," Anna retorts. "Or, I should say, the fastest speeds have been locked out under elite authority. It's always been that way. The junior leaguers at the time, such as yourself, just never noticed, because you were never permitted to know. So while you might have made the normal speeds faster, I doubt it compares to the locked out gears; if your upgrading didn't knock those drives out completely, that is."

Mulan runs a hand over her cloth covered jaw. "Jesus," she utters, "just how many secrets did the old elites keep from us?"

"Far more than what's healthy, I can assure you," Anna answers, with an odd smile.

Mulan frowns. "That is far from reassuring," she says.

Anna barks a surprised laugh, before falling into a coughing fit. Blood sprinkles the technician's lips, her chin, her nose, her cheeks.

"Damn it," Mulan growls, springing to her feet. "Calhoun!" she shouts. "Get Decryption in here!"

"Affirmative," Calhoun responds.

"No!" Anna hacks, her features contorting. "No one except Golden Flower and Shadow are allowed in here. Follow protocol."

"Anna," Calhoun growls, "I refuse to lose you because you are too stubborn to risk one extra person learning your secret."

"I'm going to die anyway if Golden Flower tries to heal the wrong part of me first!" Anna shouts, blood spraying from her mouth. "So respect my fucking wishes and _do as you're told_."

"I haven't had to listen to any of your orders from the moment you ran away," Calhoun hisses. "The only reason I did was because I knew there was a reason for your actions, even if you never trusted me enough to disclose them. So, for the life of you, can you trust _me_ for once?"

Anna works her jaw, her eyes flashing between ire and . . . something else. Something raw.

Mulan sits back, witnessing the exchange with pinched brows. The more she hears, the more confused she gets; but she won't butt in. Calhoun and Anna—the AI more so then the techie—are famous for withholding information with an iron tongue. That is, until today.

Something has changed, and Mulan can only pray it isn't an omen.

"Decryption has the intelligence to make my life a living hell," Anna murmurs, her cheeks colouring in shame. "It's nothing against you Calhoun, I swear, but I can't go through that again."

"Scar has the same potential," Calhoun retorts. "What's the difference between the two of them?"

"Scar and I have a mutual understanding," Anna snaps, spitting out blood, or trying to. The action is weak, and the blood flows out the corner of her lips, down her cheek, into her hair. "No matter our disputes or squabbles, we need each other."

Mulan's eyes widen, and her fingers twitch against her thighs. Are Anna and Scar working together? Are they still, now that Anna is in the Protector base?

"Why do you need each other?" Calhoun probes. "From what I can see, you need him far more then he needs you."

Anna, for her part, just smiles. It's soft and patient, yet hollow and absent. "You would think," Anna airs, her eyelids slipping shut once more. "But nothing is as apparent as it seems."

Mulan grits her teeth. As confusing as everything is, one thing is clear – no one will get any answers if Anna dies. No matter how undesired those answers may be.

"Calhoun, summon Decryption," Mulan clips, leaning forward and checking Anna's pulse. It's feeble, erratic. The corner of the hero's eyes pinch. "Unless Golden Flower is due to arrive within the minute, Anna's condition falls under"—Mulan pauses, trying to think of right name—"the hero clause, subsection, uh," she frowns, "two, article . . . one?" she guesses. She shakes her head. "Whatever! Whichever one of your damn protocols which states that a hero with full authorization or below can override any order up to elite level in the case of a medical emergency."

"Hero clause subsection twenty-one," Calhoun corrects. Fanatic knocks sound on the door. Mulan glances up, but before she can question Calhoun says, "I already sent for her." The door opens, and Belle stumbles in, regaining her balance. "You didn't honestly think I'd let Anna die just because of some stupid orders, did you?" Calhoun jests.

Mulan rolls her eyes despite the situation. No wonder the old elites use to bicker with Calhoun; the AI took all their orders with a grain of salt. It's a wonder the old elites didn't replace Calhoun with a more complacent program.

Belle rushes to the medical equipment, scanning the levels and stats. "What happened?" Belle asks, tisking at her screen. She flicks her finger at one of the IV lines stuck in Anna's arm.

"She was talking, and then she had a coughing fit," Mulan replies, stepping out of the way.

"Damn it," Belle utters, bolting to the other side of the room, where the medical supplies stored. "You should have told her to shut up!" Belle grits, using her fingerprints and Protector code—F zero nine—to access the surgical equipment. "Sterilize yourself for surgery, Shadow," Belle instructs, her muscles tense as she lays out everything she needs on a moveable metal table.

Shadow stiffens. Surgery? Here? Is this area clean enough to consider such a drastic course of action? Do they even have a store of blood?

Anna laughs, a wet bubbling at the back of her throat that turns Mulan's stomach. "You should plunge one of those scalpels into my heart instead, Decryption," Anna says, the corner of her eyes crinkling in self-degrading amusement. "It would spare you so much trouble."

"Shut the fuck up," Belle snaps, sparing a second to send Anna a withering glare. "I don't know why you hate yourself and, frankly, I don't care. The league needs you, so you're going to live. Got it?"

Anna's eyes soften, but Mulan can't tell if the pity in her eyes is directed inwards, or at Belle.

"The league did need me, once," Anna whispers. "They would have had me too, if—" Anna grits her teeth, tears misting her eyes. "If I had come to the league first after the Ambassador incident and not sought advice from— from _them_ "—she spits the word—"then I still would have been here for you. None of this would have happened." She sniffs, as wet sounding as the blood leaking through the stitches in her chest. "I could have protected you," she warbles, "but I didn't, because"—she grinds her teeth—" _they_ got to me first."

Belle's movements falter, if only for a moment. Her eyebrows furrow, and she shares a look with Mulan. Mulan wishes she knew the answers her fellow hero seeks.

"Anna," Calhoun says, gentle, coaxing, "who got to you?"

Anna locks her jaw, her lips spreading into a vile scowl. Mulan can't help but think it doesn't suit her.

"The only people left who _could_ get to me," Anna snarls, her eyes darkening. "Retired E users H zero one and H zero two."

Calhoun, for the first time since Mulan's known her, releases a strangled cry of disbelief.

"They wouldn't do that," Calhoun insists, but her voice shakes. "They only wanted what was best for everyone, there's no why they would hurt anybody – especially not to _you_ of all people; they loved you!"

"Yeah," Anna utters, "but they did."

Tense silence fills the room, one even Belle is hesitant to break with her arranging of supplies.

"What did they do?" Calhoun asks, terse.

Anna's gaze flicks to the side. "Nothing you ca—"

"Don't sidestep me!" Calhoun roars, making Mulan and Belle jump. Neither of them have heard the AI angry before. "Tell me what they did to you!"

Anna flinches. "Calh—"

" _Tell me what they did to you!_ " Calhoun bellows, her volume deafening. "Stop stepping around the point, or deflecting, or trying to carry all this yourself because that's _selfish_ ," she growls. "H users one and two _deprived_ this league of your guidance, and for what? Pity revenge for an event they could no longer change? They could have saved _millions_ of lives by putting their hatred and grieving aside by directing you back to the league, where you still had _me_ to take care of your mental wellbeing, but instead they did something to you that made you run and never look back, and I demand—I _demand_ —to know what that was."

Anna's breathing hitches and flutters, blinking tears out of her eyes, down her face. She slams her eyelids shut, shaking her head in what might be refusal, a feeble attempt at warding off memories, or both.

"N-no," Anna stutters, one of her hands clawing at her stomach in anxious twitches through the thin sheet guarding her topless form. "I-it hurts." She runs her idle hand through her bangs, and clutches her head as hard as she can. "I t-trusted them, and they betrayed me. I needed them to see through the deception I had succumbed to so they could help me, bring me b-back, but instead t-they—" She chokes a sob. "They hurt me, Calhoun."

"Did they hurt you, or did they _hurt_ you?" Calhoun asks, her words slow; as if she isn't quite prepared to hear the answer.

"Both," Anna chokes. "Plus an extra _hurt_ ; the kind no one likes talking about."

Heavy, livid breathing huffs through the speakers—which is weird for an AI to simulate, but that's the least of anyone's concerns—in jagged pulses. "I'll kill them," Calhoun hisses, barely above a whisper. The intention, so palpable it tickles the skin, makes Mulan's blood run cold.

On the far wall a holographic screen pops up. On it, the status of four users Mulan has never known are changed, before the screen disappears once more.

_E-0-1, Retired - E-0-1, Public Enemy_

_E-0-2, Retired - E-0-2, Public Enemy_

_H-0-1, Active - H-0-1, Access Terminated; Public Enemy_

_H-0-2, Active - H-0-2, Access Terminated; Public Enemy_

Mulan frowns. She opens her mouth to question, but stops herself. This feels like a private moment that would be made worse by her interference; but curiosity itches at her skin like poison ivy, begging to be addressed. There are so many unanswered riddles, and the latest one confuses her as much as the ones that came before. The only difference is that, this time, she understands the surface meaning, but not the significance.

The Protector access codes Calhoun changed are elite and honorary users one and two who, if Mulan's been keeping up, are the same two people. The issue lies in the fact that the first known heroes of the league are Athena and Hades, whose codes—that Mulan never questioned until now—were E zero three and E zero four. So who came before them, and why doesn't Earth remember them?

Something at the back of Mulan's mind urges that she knows the answer, but she can't pinpoint how or why.

"I will make their lives a living hell, I can promise you that," Calhoun rumbles, a dangerous lilt to her voice; the type Mulan has come to associate with villains and murderers.

Mulan's heart sinks, and she wonders – is it possible for an AI to turn evil? And, if so, what would that mean for the league?

"They could destroy you before you even try," Anna murmurs, opening her eyes in a purposeful, unsettling motion; locking on one of the hidden cameras in the room. "They might be old and avoid using magic to keep from killing themselves, but don't fool yourself into thinking they're any weaker than they were in their prime. If they wished they could eliminate your existence and erase common memory of you; they could do the same to me, which they rightfully should have multiple times before now, but they felt guilty. Still do, if me being alive is any indication. Their guilt of pushing me into"—her lip curls—" _this_ , is the only protection I have. They wouldn't hold the same reservations with you, so don't make yourself a target to them. Trust me – you'll regret it."

The door bursts open, and in comes Rapunzel; huffing and puffing and looking like a general train wreck. Her short brown hair is windblown back and spiking out in random directions, her clothes—bright pink pajamas with her armour plated respirator—are wrinkled, her socks don't match and her sneakers are untied. Mulan wonders how many times the hero tripped throughout her journey of getting here.

Belle raises an eyebrow. "Fancy," she drones, but she sounds relieved.

Rapunzel glares. "You fuckers woke me up with a catastrophic medical emergency," she barks, slamming the med-bay door closed. "The _last_ thing I had time for was a change of fucking clothes. Oh, and by the way," Rapunzel snarks, stomping towards Anna. The techie winces. "I am supposed to be on _vacation_ right now, spending time with Blizzard and her family. So you better keep Merida as far away from me as you can or I'll fucking kill her."

The healer stops by Anna's bed, and the redhead shrinks under the hero's gaze.

"Hello," Anna squeaks. "Sorry for getting injured. Again. At least I still have both eyes this time?"

Rapunzel frowns. "What are you talking about?" she asks, hovering a hand over Anna's chest. "As far as I can recall, we've never met before."

Anna pauses, her nose wrinkling. "Oh, right," she murmurs, gaze flicking to the side. The muscles in her jaw bulge, and her eyebrows pinch. Her eyes are conflicted, and Mulan longs to know what's going on inside the techie's head.

"Stab wound healed," Rapunzel says, absently. "Scanning . . . other injuries include— oh, wow, pretty much everything. Lacerations, bruising, fractured bones, incorrect bone healing, damaged— sorry, _severely_ damaged nerves in both arms, old traces of bullet and blade wounds not treated properly by a medical professional—how are you not dead?—organ trauma, scars—" she cuts herself off, her body going ramrod straight.

Mulan glances to Belle, who gives her a strange look in return.

"Sooo," Belle drawls, "can you heal her, or what?" Ignoring the obvious question, _why is a civilian so heavily wounded?_

Though, Mulan reasons, that _could_ be explained by whatever the—former—users H zero one and two did to Anna.

Rapunzel stares down at Anna, eyes wide. Her outstretched hand trembles. Anna offers a wan smile.

"I'm also dying," Anna adds; trying, and failing, to be helpful. "I have a year of life left, max; but I doubt I'll last anywhere near that long." She sighs, staring up at the ceiling. She doesn't speak for a long couple of moments, before asking, "Can I at least put a shirt on before you try ripping my head off?"

Rapunzel blinks once, twice, and then she's reeling. Fear shines in her eyes, her laboured breathing.

"Calhoun!" Rapunzel cries. "Summon every hero to the medical bay, _now_."

Calhoun sighs. "I'm afraid I can't do that," she says.

"Why the hell not?" Rapunzel barks, pointing an accusatory finger at Anna. "She's—"

"I know quite well who she is, Golden Flower," Calhoun interrupts. "After all, _she's_ the one who ordered the med-bay lockdown," she chuckles, "under the user code E zero five."

Mulan's thought process flat lines. She knows that user code by heart; repeats it, adores it, hates it. Her sight falls on Anna, taking an unconscious step back. "That— that's not possible," Mulan utters, shaking her head. "You and, and _her_ – I've seen you both in the same room, talking, multiple times before the Ambassador incident."

Anna twitches a sympathetic smile. "Yeah," she says, "we planned it that way, to quell suspicion."

Mulan sputters. "B— but _how?_ " she insists.

Anna shrugs. "Bear was a shape shifter," she answers, plain and simple. "People were just so used to Bear shifting into animals or objects that they forgot she could shift into people, too; and she was _really_ good at imitating personalities, to boot. She used to play pranks on us all the time by doing that. Half the time she got away with them."

"Can someone _please_ tell me what the _hell_ is going on?" Belle blurts, her fingernails scratching at her palms and her eyes flicking between the three people in front of her.

Anna glances between Mulan and Rapunzel, but neither of them are keen to speak. Why would they be? They're trapped in a room with Anna, of all people, and one false move could have her blowing up the base. Which, Mulan admits, is the only thing stopping her from shadowing out of the room and shitting her pants.

Well, that and the fact that Mulan has the stinking suspicion Anna has—and never had—any intention of crippling the league or its heroes. If she did she never would have agreed to come to the base where Merida hates her, Rapunzel and Esmeralda could identify her through use of their powers, one false word could tip off Shang, Jane or Mulan, and Calhoun could rat her out at anytime.

No, Anna never intended on hurting the league. Being as close to death as she is, Mulan suspects this has been the prequel to 'giving the league the first crack.'

Anna sighs and, keeping the sheet covering her chest with one hand, pushes herself upright and leans against the headboard. "Belle," she says, bypassing the leaguer's hero name to a chilling effect, "I'm Arson."


	13. For I Have Sinned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [kristaon ](http://kristaon.tumblr.com/)(tumblr) for beta-ing my work.
> 
> * * *

Four Years A—? 

"Jen?" Anna whimpers, cradling her lover in her arms. "No, no, no, no, _no_ ," she utters, patting the older girl's cheek in quick, panicked bursts – trying to keep her awake. A sob lodges in Anna's throat, tears springing to her eyes.

They've been through too much for this to be the end. After thinking Jennifer was dead for ten years, struggling to retrieve her from Athena and the other elites for a dozen years, and then _finally_ being able to be with each other and live in—sporadic—peace for fifteen years, and for what? For Jennifer—Anna's love, her world, her life—to be taken down by the _thing_ that pretended the two people were one and the same for ten years?

A feeling at the back of Anna's head twinges, whispering that they _are_ the same person, and to _wake up_ , but the last thirty-seven years of Anna's life has convinced her of her internal voice's tendency to lie.

As aged as she is—in her late fifties—Anna had made a deal with the elite four to leave her and Jennifer alone, let them retire—in other words 'stop trying to kill us'—and they would never get in the elites' way again. The four, after some debate, had agreed.

Anna never should have believed them.

"P-please," Anna weeps, pulling Jennifer to her chest. "I c-can't lose you." _Not again_ , she thinks. _Not after everything. Not now that I have nothing else left_.

Having been betrayed by every friend she's ever had, the loss of the only person who still makes Anna's world make sense would drive her mad.

Or, perhaps, she's been mad for a long time, and Jennifer was only able to keep the insanity at bay.

Athena, in her new armour of glittering black titanium, forged in the depths of hell—curtsey of Hades, whose heart finds home in the breastplate of Athena's armour—throws back her head and laughs. Hard. Anna glares at her, at Jennifer's blood dripping down the pristine black metal. What Anna wouldn't give to beat Athena's face to a pulp. But she can't, not while Jennifer's still alive; her lover was always scared one more cold blooded murder would push Anna over the cliff of villainy. She's already so close; standing at the edge, staring down.

Some days when Anna looks down, into the wailing depths of shadows calling her name, she can't help but think that falling wouldn't be so bad. Jennifer had been her rock these last fifteen years, telling her that the whispers are lies, but now Anna's not so sure.

"Pathetic," Athena laughs, deep and rumbling. "To think you fell for our lies, _again_ ; you truly are a glutton for punishment."

Anna grits her teeth, tears streaking down her cheeks. She wishes she were in costume, where her full face mask could have protected her features from sight.

"Shut, up," Anna snarls. She pushes Jennifer's bangs out of her eyes, her tone softening as she says, "Just hold on, okay? You're going to be fine." Anna already cauterized Jennifer's wounds, so she won't die from blood loss. External blood loss, at least.

Chel, the AI in her head, bombards Anna's vision with statistics and probabilities. Anna shoves them away. Deep down, she already knows what they'll say, but she's not ready to accept that reality yet.

"Jen?" Anna whispers, cupping her lover's cheek. She looks so frail.

Jennifer winces, leaning her head into Anna's bicep. "Listen closely, Anna," she airs, not having the strength for full sound. "I know you don't have much reason to believe me, considering what you've gone through, but none of this is re—"

Blood splatters across Anna's chest, and her throat constricts at the sight of Jennifer's neck; blood, bone and muscles exposed. Pulses of blood squirt out, soaking Anna's shirt, her pants.

Anna reels, a scream bubbling in her lungs, only to choke to a halt in her throat when Jennifer's skull—released when Anna lurched backwards—connects with the asphalt with a wet _thunk_. The fire master flips to her hands and knees, emptying the contents of her stomach.

Athena yowls with laughter, gripping at the armour covering her stomach and doubling over. "Oh my god!" she howls, slapping her thigh. "Your face! I wish you could see it!"

The putrid smell of vomit mixes with the tang of blood, both resting on Anna's tongue like lead; heavy and poisonous. She dares to look behind her, her stomach rolling once more upon spotting Jennifer's carved out throat.

A few steps away from the body stands Hades, his zombie-like eyes staring into the distance and the black mist of the underworld swirling around his hands.

Rage fills the cavity in Anna's chest, her blood-shot eyes whipping to Athena. Hades can only do what his heart commands after what Executioner's Axe did to him, and that organ rests within Athena's armour; beating above her own heart.

Athena's turns to Anna, no doubt smirking behind that black helm, and, as sweet as a lover, says, "Don't worry, my Anna; I'll always be here for you." She extends her arms, offering a hug. "Let me help you."

Something snaps in Anna's brain, and she _roars_. Her vision tunnels, her magic explodes inside her veins and the ground beneath her liquefies. Her flames keep her afloat atop the molten asphalt and she straightens, bellowing a cry of rage to the heavens.

Anna feels the blood vessels bursting in her eyes, feels her hellfire flooding from its inert hiding place and submerging her body, burning the inside of her skull, her eyes. Her vision, tunneled and red, corrects itself back to normal, only everything glints with a hint of silver.

In some part of her mind, Anna takes pleasure in the way Athena scrambles backwards, tripping over her own feet in her haste. The larger part of her mind, however, flat lines on emotion; disconnects with the attachments she once held with her Earthly possessions, with Jennifer.

Humour rumbles in Anna's chest, exiting her lips in dark, grating chuckles; mixing with the echoed howls of the dead from the hellfire burning at the back of her throat. "Oh, Athena," she chortles, her eyes sliding to the elite in time with the smirk curling her lips, "thank you, for showing me the darkness."

Athena takes a step back, her hands clenching into fists. "Hades," she commands, a tremor in her voice, "get us out of here."

Anna cackles. Is Athena so nervous that she feels the need to give the order aloud? "Oh, please do," Anna says, the corners of her eyes crinkling in sick amusement. "I won't be far behind, I can promise you. Our battle has just begun."

Hades hell-gates beside his sister, then hell-gates them both away.

Anna hums, a jovial tone vibrating at the back of her throat with her hellfire as she steps on solid land, on the other side of Jennifer's body.

"You will be avenged," Anna promises, but little of the intense emotion she displayed earlier reaches her tone. She hooks her foot under Jennifer's back and kicks the body into the molten strip of road, smiling at the smell of burning flesh as the body chars and sinks. She glances in the direction Athena once stood.

"One, two, three; I found the one for me," Anna sings, teleporting to her house. "Four, five, six; this is a chance I will not miss." She walks into her bedroom. "Seven, eight, nine; soon you will be mine." She opens the closest. "Ten, nine, eight; don't you dare negate." She moves the hanging clothes aside, revealing a security pad. "Seven, six, five; that one of us will thrive." She punches in the code. "Four, three, two; don't you worry who – _one_ of us will make it through." A demented grin twists Anna's lips as she finishes her little rhyme, and she pushes open the hidden door, revealing Anna and Jennifer's meta uniforms and supplies. Anna picks up her regular mask—the hockey-styled face mask with a burning skull painted on the front—and smiles. It never felt more appropriate.

She glances to Jennifer's side of the room, eying the battle-worn silver armour. It wouldn't be able to withstand her hellfire like her customized outfit can, but if she could inlay some of the armour into her own uniform . . .

Anna smirks, darkness twinkling in her eyes.

Athena's new armour is resistant to hellfire, but that means nothing if Anna can outfit herself to be resistant to Athena's raw magic in turn.

This will be the battle of the ages, Anna knows, as she starts taking Jennifer's armour apart.

No one will underestimate her again.

No one will ever dare to hurt her.

She will kill the four elites—her former friends, her tormentors—and she will make the universe _bow_ before her. And if they don't grovel and plead allegiance, then Anna will give them _years_ to make them wish they had.

* * *

Present Day 

The chaos derived from Anna's declaration was predictable, to say the least. But, other than dodging a scalpel or two—ripping the IV out of her arm in the process—the violence factor of the reveal was minimal, at best.

With Shadow being the only fully-combat trained hero in the room, however, Anna can't say she expected much different.

Anna pulls on her bloodied shirt, frowning at her bra laying sliced open on a nearby table. Belle had cut it off when she'd first arrived to the med-bay to stem the bleeding and stitch up the wound. It's a shame, because Anna had liked that bra. Then again she had liked this shirt, too. She should really learn to not get attached to clothing.

"Anna," Shadow calls again, her voice curt.

"Hm? What?" Anna hums, glancing at the former junior leaguer. Despite knowing who Anna is, Shadow stands between her and the other two heroes, like a shield. Anna can't fathom why, after everything she's done. She can see the stemmed ire in Shadow's eyes, shining with the need to make Anna pay for her crimes, but it's dulled by something Anna never expected to see again, at least never towards her.

Hope.

"I asked," Decryption snarls, "how do you know my name?"

Anna blinks. "Oh," she says, running her fingers through her bangs. She winces and lowers her arm, pressing a finger back on the spot the IV was ripped out to stem the bleeding. She could cauterize it, if she wanted, but she can't bring herself to care. "I know the identity of every known meta before the Ambassador incident," Anna answers. "Plus Justice," she adds, "but she's not really a _new_ superhero, is she?" She turns to Shadow. "It suits her more than Tarzan. I'm glad she made the change, even if I'm not proud to have been the motivator."

Shadow blinks, her jaw working under her cloth mask. "You knew? The whole time?" she asks; appalled, astonished.

Anna shrugs. "Not the whole time," she hinges, "but I caught on sooner than you'd like to think." She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "The clothes can change, but the powers stay the same."

To give Justice credit, she went through a _lot_ of effort to change the colour of her hard light abilities to stem suspicion, and even went so far as to avoid hard-light structures she used to create as Tarzan. She just neglected to factor in how familiar Anna was with her powers and fighting style.

Shadow hums, a peculiar look flickering through her eyes. "You never hinted," she says; both a question and a statement.

Anna twitches a lopsided, closed lip smile; if the empty gesture can be considered such. "Jane faked the death of both her civilian and hero identities to make me stop using her true identity as leverage," she says. "The least I could do was play along. Heaven knows she deserves the peace of mind."

Disgust shines in Golden Flower's eyes. "We _all_ deserve peace of mind," she snaps, "and we can't have that while you're still alive."

Anna glances at the healer, trying her best to process the words instead of focusing on how weird the meta looks playing hero in pajamas. "If I had it my way I'd already be dead," Anna replies, "but I can't die yet. Not until I can ensure that everything will be set right."

Golden Flower outright growls. "If by 'set right' you mean 'hurt billions of people' then sure," she says, barking a scolding laugh, "I believe you."

Shadow gives the healer a look, but Anna just shrugs. She didn't expect any of the league heroes to be receptive to her after they found out who she was.

"Anna," Shadow murmurs, a strange inflection to her words, "do you remember when Mechanical Warfare captured me three years ago?"

Anna blinks. "Uh, yeah," she says, her eyebrows furrowing. "If I recall, Blizzard became leader of the league not a week later."

Golden Flower's eyes flash. "That's _right_ ," she says, pointing an accusing finger. " _You_ scared Shadow into stepping down."

"No," Shadow corrects, before Anna can answer. "She saved me." Besides the hum of electricity, the room goes deathly quiet.

"I—" Anna frowns. She can't think of a logical excuse to cast that action away. "I threatened to kill you if you ever came back," she tries instead.

"You should have killed me right then," Shadow refutes, not missing a beat. "Or let Mechanical Warfare do it for you. So, my question is, why didn't you?"

Anna shifts, her eyes flitting around the room. She takes a step back. "You weren't worth the trouble," she lies.

"You know better than anyone that it's better to squash a threat while it's still small," Shadow argues, her hands balling into fists. "I'll ask you again; why did you save me?"

Anna scratches at her chest like an addict needing a fix and takes another step back, avoiding eye contact. "I d-don't—" she stutters.

"Arson," Shadow clips, making Anna cringe; god how she hates that name. "Please," Shadow says, her tone softer than before, "help me understand. What did you have to gain by keeping me alive?"

 _Peace of mind_ , Anna thinks, gritting her teeth. The corners of her eyes pinch. "You needed to say alive," she says, choosing her words with a silver tongue. "Your ability has potential you are nowhere near unlocking and, once it is, it will be crucial to have you as a Protector. You will still need allies like Earth metas and Berk, but you—and Blizzard, now that I think of it—are the only two metas who could replace me and my role successfully."

"Shadow and Blizzard would _never_ become like you!" Decryption shouts, preparing to lunge.

"They don't _have_ to become like me," Anna snaps. "In fact, I would prefer it if they didn't." She looks Shadow in the eye, her confidence returning. This is the territory she's comfortable in; thrives in. The territory of actions and decisions, of heroes and villains, of good versus evil; the territory where she's just a pawn in a bigger game that doesn't take feelings into account. "What do you know about the Ambassadors? _Really_ know about them?"

Shadow blinks. "Well," she says, scratching her jaw through her mask, "Scar, General and I were captured by them a couple weeks before the Ambassador incident, and you and Hades were trapped in their fleet soon afterwards." Golden Flower and Decryption give her wide-eyed looks, but Shadow ignores them. "General and I were unconscious the majority of the time so we don't remember much, and the elites didn't talk about the condition of you or Hades, but Hades' general message filled us in on the Ambassador's true nature and goals."

Anna frowns. Hades used the general message, meant to encourage the remaining league metas, to talk about the Ambassadors? Then again she shouldn't be surprised; he never was the comforting type. "How in-depth did he go?" she asks. While she might not approve of his use of the general contingency recording, he could have saved her a whole lot of trouble.

 _Or maybe not_ , Anna thinks, recalling her conversation with some of the heroes earlier on in the kitchen. If Jane's unease was anything to go by, only the former junior leaguers watched the general messages. So while Hades' message may still prove useful to legitimize Anna's claims, she will still be met with skepticism for being the first to relay the information.

"He explains why the Ambassadors came to the Sol galaxy and how their actions with Earth make it hard for the league to act out agains— wait a second," Shadow says, interrupting herself. "You haven't watched his message?"

Anna winces, but can't do much else before Decryption's biting tone cuts in with:

"According to Calhoun, she refused to watch any of the recordings," Decryption spits. "How cold is that? She didn't even care enough to listen to their last words."

A lump rises in Anna's throat. Her lungs constrict. Her chest aches, tears sting her eyes; but she pushes past them, forcing herself to swallow back the wave of regret threatening to strangle her.

Shadow's eyes widen, and she looks to Anna for confirmation. "Is this true?" she asks.

Shame claws at Anna's heart and she looks away, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"Tell me with words," Shadow growls. "Did you, or did you not, watch the old elites' contingency messages?"

"I—" Anna's voice cracks, and she clears her throat. Her shoulders slump. "No," she whispers. "I didn't watch any of the messages, general or otherwise."

Shadow's eyes flash. "What?" she roars, taking an aggressive step forward. Anna takes a step back. "Why the fuck not, _Arson?_ " she snarls.

A disjointed cord strikes in Anna's chest and her lip curls. "Because I _murdered_ them!" she shouts, her voice threatening to break. She jabs a thumb to her chest. " _I'm_ the one who crushed Athena's skull. _I'm_ the one who broke every bone in Bear's body, and left her to burn when I lit up the fleet. _I'm_ the one who dissolved Hades. _I'm_ the one who— t-to Black Dragon," she winces, not wanting to recall that memory. " _I_ murdered my friends," she continues, her throat tight. Tears sting her eyes. "They didn't deserve what I did to them, so I didn't deserve to take solace in—"

"No!" Shadow snaps, stopping Anna short. "Yeah, you murdered the old elites, but if you still had a soul worth saving afterwards you should have watched them. That's why they were made!" she bellows. "And I _know_ you still have your old morals locked up inside you or else I would be dead right now – all the leaguers would be. When you left"—she grits her teeth, her eyes flashing—"you left the survival of the Protectors to me. I wasn't ready for it, but I took the step because Jane couldn't handle it, Shang was too busy breaking down to consider it and Scar was gone. You could have _stayed_ and _helped us_ maintain order, guided us into the heroes we needed to become, but you fled like a fucking coward and you never looked back. You never extended a hand. _You never tried to help us_."

Anna's eyes harden. "Were you not listening?" she growls, her fingers curling into fists. "Before Goldie over there showed up I _told you_ , and _you_ ," she points to Decryption, "that I wanted to come back. I wanted to make things right and I _wanted_ to do them with the league. I didn't want to do this solo villainy shit."

Shadow hesitates, her eyebrows furrowing. "But you sought advice from H users one and two first," she says; more a question then a statement.

"Yeah," Anna utters, her features steeling. "Only I didn't get any advice." Just pain and betrayal.

Shadow stares. Anna can almost see the gears turning in her head.

"No matter what they put you through," Shadow says, choosing her words, "you still had people at the league you could trust."

Anna throws her arms into the air. "Don't you get it?" she cries. "H one and two were _family_ , or so close to it that they might as well of been. I trusted them with _everything_ ; more than I trusted Calhoun and certainly more than I trusted the junior leaguers. So when they—" Anna stops herself, the muscles in her jaw jumping and bulging. "I was already traumatized to the point of insanity before I went to them, but the hero in me was still alive, somewhere. I sought out H one and two to help me get back on my feet, so I could make things right, but all they did was break me. They were the only people I had left who I thought I could trust with everything, and they stabbed me in the back. Do you _honestly_ think I'd come back to the league after that?" Anna asks, her eyes hard.

Shadow's eyes flick aside, processing the words. Decryption and Golden Flower shift, hatred firm in their expressions but still considerate. They wait for Shadow to speak; not wanting to risk exploding and having Anna clamp her tongue.

"What happened to you, before the Ambassador incident?" Shadow asks, her gaze locking with Anna's. "I can't see you killing the old elites and taking down an entire fleet for no reason, and you obviously regret it. So what happened to make you do it?"

Anna sighs, sitting on the medical bed beside her. "The same thing that happened to Scar and Hades," she huffs, running her fingers through her bangs.

Surprise flashes in the eyes of all three heroes, but Shadow retains control of her shock. "Care to explain?" she asks.

Anna gives Shadow a funny look. "Don't tell me the irony of Scar and I turning evil after being captured by the Ambassadors never occurred to you," she says. When only a blank look stares back at her, Anna sighs. "We were 'put under,' to say it lightly," she murmurs, her eyebrows furrowing. "Scar was under for a day and a half, and you see what he's become. Hades and I were put under for thirteen and six days, respectively." Anna shrugs. "You're lucky that I'm the one who won the battle between Hades and I, or else you'd all be suffering worse fates than faded memories."

"Wait," Decryption interrupts, raising a halting hand. "If Scar went villain in a day and a half, how the _hell_ do you retain any morals after suffering the same _whatever_ as Scar?"

Anna tilts her head to the ceiling, considering. After a moment, she says, "As Shadow probably knows, I have an immunity to toxins and poisons, to a point. Hades would, too, if the magic seal he bears didn't suppress that ability."

Shadow's head snaps back. "Hades had a magic seal?" she blurts.

"Yeah, and so did Athena," Anna says, waving the hero off. "That's not the point. The point is that I'm not as easily affected by mind-altering substances, even less so when the specific toxin they were using is one that lays dormant inside my bones, by blood. They tainted and twisted it to their own purposes, of course, but it was still similar enough to the type I produced that I was able to fend off the more permanent effects for most of the time I was under – five days, I think?

"After that . . ." Anna wavers, the corners of her eyes pinching. "They must have upped the dosage past my resistance levels, because they were finally able to make me snap. I went insane, wanting nothing more than to rip the universe apart and make it submissive to my every whim." She pinches the bridge of her nose. " _That_ is the woman you saw during the Ambassador and South Carolina incidents; the woman who wanted nothing more than control and suffering.

"For anyone else—like Scar—that personality shift would have been permanent," Anna continues, "but the same couldn't happen to someone with a natural immunity. Instead, it created something of a split personality that lays dormant inside of me unless exposed to the interior or exterior presence of the same toxin that created it. Calhoun was able to create a suppressant for when the other me rears its head, which is the only reason you've only seen that side of me twice, and the only reason Scar was able to stop me during the South Carolina incident."

Shadow's muscles jolt. "You mean it was _Calhoun_ Scar owed a favour to?" she blurts.

"Fuck Calhoun and Scar!" Decryption blurts. "I want to know why the South Carolina incident happened _at all_ with this safeguard in place!"

Anna side-eyes Decryption, but otherwise ignores her. She doubts any of the league heroes are ready for _that_ truth just yet, especially with what came of it. So, instead, Anna turns to Mulan and nods, answering with, "Yeah; and she's the same person I owed a favour to when I helped Blizzard find her parents." She glances to Golden Flower. "How are they, by the way?"

Golden Flower's eyes narrow, but the ire in them has diminished. "That's none of your damn business," she clips.

Anna shrugs. "Fair enough," she mumbles.

"I'm right here," Decryption snarls. "Don't you ignore me."

Shadow sighs, rubbing her temple. "This is all well and good," she says, overstepping Decryption like Anna had, "but please understand that I can't just take your word for this. It's a good story, don't get me wrong, but without the specifics . . ." she shrugs, trailing off. "I'm sure you understand."

 _All too well_ , Anna thinks, staring at the far wall. She hums, her eyes flicking to Decryption. "I told you about HFS earlier, yeah? Calhoun's defensive toxin?" she asks. Decryption's features contort, conflicted to whether she should be affronted or not.

"Answer my question first—" the hero tries.

"Not happening," Anna intercedes. "You all have enough pills to swallow at the moment, and I'd rather none of you faint on me from . . . _that_. So, tell me, do you remember?"

The muscles in Decryption's jaw jump beneath her fabric mask. "Yes," she snarls, "I remember."

Anna disregards the hero's attitude. "Yeah, well, that's what the Ambassadors got their hands on," she says, a slow, mocking smile sliding over her lips. "Get it?"

While Shadow and Golden Flower send her confused stares, understanding—and horror—creeps into Decryption's showing features. Her face pales.

"My god," Decryption chokes, "this entire base was vulnerable to you this whole time. _That's_ what you where hinting at earlier; y _ou're_ the person who produces HFS."

"Yup," Anna says, popping the 'P,' "but best not dwell on it too long," she suggests. "The point is, you all probably felt the effects of HFS at some point from trying to access something you weren't supposed to and not listening when Calhoun told you to stop." All three heroes flush. "Like I thought," she says, a smug tint to her voice. "Anyway, as you know from experience, in its raw form to someone who isn't immune, it's an agonizing experience. To a bearer, like me," she lays a hand on her chest, "it acts as more as an intoxication after prolonged uses; like the buzz you get from alcohol combined with the high of ecstasy.

"When altered, HFS's fatality feature to non-bearers can be diminished," Anna continues. "When that is accomplished, HFS can be used for _so many things_ it's not even funny. The Ambassadors, however, were only interested in HFS's potential in torture." Anna tries to ignore the donning horror on the heroes' faces. "They brought HFS's hallucinogen and mind-attacking properties to the forefront, and added chemicals to instigate the activation of an individual's worst fears and to alter the brain's perception of time."

"In practice it starts your life off at exactly the same moment you're injected," Anna says, "so you believe that your life is continuing on as normal. Only, surprise, everything you thought you knew is different, and every single one of your fears start playing out, forcing you to deal with them in vivid detail. There's no end to it, because facing a fear—or a series of them—creates an alternate fear you never had before, which was triggered by scenarios you never would have faced otherwise. So no matter how many fears you conquer, there will always be more waiting for you until the day you snap – when love and fear stop mattering because you've gone through _so much_ you can't take it anymore.

"This break, depending on a person's tolerance for traumatic experiences and immunity to toxin," Anna adds, "could take—in real time—anywhere from less than a day to a week. But in your mind . . ." Anna frowns. "It depends on how well the toxin can integrate itself into your system. It couldn't fully amalgamate itself with me, despite my system being the right frequency to safely carry HF and HFS, because my immune system was fighting it the whole time, even when I broke. Even with that discord, I still"—she presses the heels of her palms into her eyes—"Even with my body reducing the time-distortion, I still lived in that delusion for forty-three years."

Anna claws at her skull, shutting out the gasps and murmurs among the heroes. "I thought the elites had betrayed me," she admits, meek. "I thought they had tried to kill me more times than I dare to count. I thought I'd destroyed this base and Calhoun, Scar, Tarzan and General with it. I thought every meta I knew of before the Ambassador incident but never met—including all of you—had chosen the elite's side from the get-go or betrayed me in some way. I thought I had put an AI in my head to help me combat all the metas of the universe alone. I thought the elites had killed my lover—my fiancée in real life—a-and I—"

Anna sobs, tremors wracking her torso. "I thought they were evil!" she wails. "But they weren't, and I killed them, and when I started to see things clearly I went to H one and two to help suppress the remaining toxin in my system, and my false memories with it; but all they saw was the person I'd become. They saw me as a criminal, and they treated me like they would if a proper villain had murdered their children, instead of a damaged hero who needed help.

"The only reason they stopped before they got into the _real_ heavy abuse"—Anna spits the word—"was because the same rag they used to stop me from activating HF or HFS also succeeded in suppressing what remained in my system. So when they finally decided to look me in the eye—" she grinds her teeth, folding her arms over her chest in a protective gesture. "They realized their mistake and released me, but it was already too late to undo the damage they had done."

Golden Flower steps forward, hesitation in her eyes. "That, uh," she swallows, "that brand on your back, were H one and two . . .?"

"Responsible?" Anna guesses, her arms tightening around herself. Golden Flower nods. "Yeah," Anna mutters, looking anywhere but the heroes. "But that was the least damaging thing they did to me. I still don't like people touching it because what it reminds me of," she flicks her gaze to Golden Flower, an unspoken apology in her eyes, "but if that was all H one and two had done I would have gotten off easy."

Golden Flower's fingers tap against her thigh, considering. "What . . . did they do to you, exactly?" she asks.

Anna curls in on herself.

"That's enough for now," Calhoun interrupts, to Anna's relief. "Anna has told us more than we need to know to make an informed decision of what we'll do with her."

Anna forces a weak laugh. "I thought the 'off with her head' was pretty apparent, Calhoun," she whispers.

"It may have been," Calhoun allows, "but your admission—which was far too long overdue, by the way—has changed things."

"Only it hasn't," Anna counters, flopping on her side on the medical bed, curling into a ball. "I could have revealed everything back when it happened and either stayed a hero or became a vigilante – not a hero, but not a villain; but I didn't. I ran away and accepted the villainous title my split personality devised for me, and I never provided anyone except Scar and Chel with information that suggested I wasn't the heartless bastard I paraded around as." She closes her eyes, burying her nose in the hard mattress. "I killed, abandoned, or got betrayed by everyone I ever loved," she whispers. "And every day I spend as a villain the more I find myself realizing I'm losing the connections that keep the hero inside of me alive.

"I lost the elites, I lost the junior leaguers, I lost my non-meta friends, I would have lost you, Calhoun, if you hadn't been so stubborn," Anna says, with a weak, hollow smile. It fades as quickly as it appeared. "I've lost so many people because of my own inability to hold off the THFS for _one more day_ , and I _hate myself_ for it. Do you know what it's like, losing everyone you ever cared about and not having anyone to blame but yourself?"

"Anna—" Calhoun tries.

"I don't _want_ to live anymore, Calhoun," Anna mutters. "I fought the good fight and I lost. I continued fighting anyway, even though nobody else knew the threat remained, and now I have two useless arms and a dying body. Let the league take my place on the intergalactic scale." She pauses. "Start with Berk, though," she adds. "You need to catch the Beast Master and deliver him to the King and Queen before they themselves catch him, or you'll never have a chance to make an alliance with them."

A couple seconds pass, then Calhoun lets out an airy chuckle. "You let the dragon riders catch you to devise this, didn't you?" she asks, a rhetorical question. "I should have known." Her voice hardens once more. "But you can't die yet, not until the league knows what they're up against."

Anna blinks open her eyes, glancing at one of the cameras within her sight range. "Anything you need on the Ambassadors will be provided to you by Chel upon my death," she reveals. "You don't need me."

Golden Flower stiffens. "The Ambassadors?" she questions, still wrapping her mind around the fact that they weren't as peaceful as they led Earth to believe.

"What?" Anna drones. "Do you think they would have thought to themselves, 'oh, look, the Earth elite Arson destroyed one of our fleets. I guess we'll just leave the Sol galaxy alone without any repercussions.'" She sighs through her nose. "They never stopped trying to retaliate. For some attempts I was able to trick the villainous network into taking care of the problem for me—unbeknownst to them, of course—but most of the others I had to deal with myself, with the aid of Scar's technology. We don't like each other, but we cooperate because we both want to see the Ambassadors burn."

Decryption's fingers twitch, her eyebrows furrowing. "No matter your reasons or what you've done to protect Earth, it doesn't excuse your actions as a villain," she says. Deep down, Anna doubts the hero wants to hear any valid reasons to contradict the horrendous image of Arson she has in her head. Anna can't blame her. On some level, Anna feels the same way.

Anna gestures to Decryption, giving one of the cameras a pointed look. "Told you," she says. "So let's just all agree that the league should execute me in the face of the public and get this farce of a debate over with."

"No, Anna," Calhoun scolds.

"Goddamn it, Calhoun!" Anna screams. "Just let me die!"

"No!" Calhoun roars, making Anna jump. "No," Calhoun repeats, quieter. "You are going to stay here and help the league, and no one in this room is going to tell anybody that you're Arson, because _that_ decision will be under the discretion of me and whether or not you aid the league to the full scale of your non-meta abilities."

Anna sits up, her teeth gnashing together. "So I'm your _bitch_ now, is that it?" she spits.

"I've stayed on your side for this long," Calhoun whispers, soothing, "so I'm not going to start punishing you for perceived follies now. You know me better than that, Anna. Besides," her voice softens, "you're the only friend I have left."

The tension in Anna's shoulders ebb, and the hard edge to her features melt away. "I— sorry," she apologies. "I keep forgetting you lost as much as I, if not more."

"Yeah," Calhoun agrees, "but at least I still had people around—the new heroes of the league are good people, by the way—you, on the other hand . . . you didn't have anyone."

Anna shrugs, rubbing her arm in an uncomfortable motion. "I still had you, through technicality," she says.

"But you never talked to me without reason," Calhoun says. "You never called just to ask how I was doing, or to catch up, or to talk about your day. You distanced yourself from me, and I don't"—her voice becomes thick—"I don't want to lose you like that again."

Anna blinks, tears she didn't know were there making tracks on her cheekbones.

"As a side note," Calhoun continues, trying to collect herself, "how did you know the names of all the known metas before the Ambassador incident? Even I'm still trying to accumulate that information."

Anna smirks, glad to be back in familiar territory. "Not everything the old elites and I did is in your system," she says. "You should be aware of that, considering we had a technology black-out room in the old elite living quarters wing."

Calhoun hums. "I've always hated that room," she grumbles.

Anna laughs. "Maybe I'll bring the information out someday, if I'm ever allowed back in there," she says, her smile fading. "And if I ever muster up the courage to venture back into that place."

"Oh, well, I can solve one of those issues, at least," Calhoun says. "Anna Lehne, I hereby reinstate your elite civilian access; ECA zero one. I'm sure you still remember the limitations and won't force me to ramble them off."

"Well," Anna hinges, "now that you mention it—"

"Don't you dare," Calhoun warns.

Anna grins. "Can't say I didn't try to make you laugh," she jests.

"You being an ass isn't funny," Calhoun deadpans. "It just makes you look like an idiot."

"Rude," Anna huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. A second later she and Calhoun break into a small fit of giggles. "By the gods I've missed you," Anna chuckles.

"Then you shouldn't have left, moron," Calhoun chides, with enough good humour to make Anna snort.

Golden Flower steps forward. "Not to break up the moment, but does Anna's civilian access being returned mean that she'd know our identities?" she asks. "If she does, does that mean we don't have to keep parading around in uniform?" She flicks her mask for emphasis.

Anna raises an eyebrow. "You're in pajamas," she deadpans.

Golden Flower fixes Anna with a stern glare. "I still hate you, so don't push your luck," she snarls. Anna raises her hands in surrender.

"Yes, it means Anna would have access to your full and complete profiles sans delicate information," Calhoun answers. "Not many of you have information like that, and the ones that do involve Arson, which Anna would be privy to anyway because, duh, it's her."

Decryption's eyes harden. "That reminds me," she utters, sending Anna a glower cold enough to make her shiver. "If you _ever_ touch Kida, or are in a room alone with her, I will make you wish all this was another fake memory, do you understand?"

Anna's heart drops into her stomach, but not because of the threat. "Trust me when I say I'd be happy never seeing Kida again," she says. At least her memories of violating Black Dragon are a curse solely in her mind; to be forced to share space with the other person she assaulted, remembering herself do those horrid things every time she sees Kida's face – Anna can think of no worse hell.

Vaguely, Anna wonders if H one and two feel the same way about her.

Decryption cuts a decisive nod. "Good," she clips, turning heel. "Now I'm going to go watch those general messages."

Golden Flower's eyes light up. "Oh, count me in!" she cheers, following behind.

Anna can see the tension in the duo's shoulders. She knows they just want to get out of the same room as her.

"Just a moment," Shadow murmurs, holding up a hand. She gives Anna a curious look. "Do you want to watch the general messages, too?"

A lump rises in Anna's throat. "I—" she scratches at her pants. "I don't think I'm ready for that just yet."

Shadow tilts her head. "The general messages aren't directed towards you," she says. "They'd be a great way to work yourself up to the personalized messages."

Anna hugs her chest, hands hidden under her arms. "I'm not scared about what they'll say in the general messages like I am with the personal messages," she admits. "It's just . . . I don't think I'll be able to look at them or hear their voices without drowning in guilt." Her voice lowers to a whisper. "The old elites truly were wonderful people. I'm not sure if I can handle being reminded of that, and knowing I'll never be able t-to—" _say goodbye_. Anna clamps a hand over her mouth, her chin quivering.

Shadow stands still for a moment, considering. Then, she pulls down her mask and steps forward, offering her hand. "You don't need to face the things that scare you all alone, not anymore," she says, offering a smile. "I think history is a good indicator that you being forced to face your fears by yourself ends badly for everyone."

Anna stares at Shad— no, Mulan's hand. Tears mist her eyes. Her nose tingles. The back of her throat pulses.

Without warning, Anna pulls Mulan forward, burying her face in the hero's midriff. "I am so sorry," Anna weeps, her voice muffled. Her hands claw helplessly at Mulan's back, as if she's falling and she doesn't know how to stop. "I am so, _so_ sorry," she sobs, her body wracked with tremors. "Please forgive me," she whimpers, rocking back and forth as much as she can – which, is to say, not very much. "Forgive me. Please forgive me. I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you."

Anna keeps uttering apologies, and Mulan hesitates before wrapping Anna into an uncomfortable embrace. She glances behind her, giving the other two heroes—as disquieted as her—the okay to leave. They do with little hesitation.

When Mulan turns her attention back to Anna, the mighty Arson she used to adore, Mulan can't help but note that this apology was all she ever wanted; to know Anna didn't mean to do the things she did and that she wants to come back. At the same time, Mulan can't ignore the bile at the back of her throat, telling her that maybe, just maybe, Anna's confession came a little too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you wondering about Elsa, she's coming back into the story next chapter.


	14. Vague Victories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [kristaon ](http://kristaon.tumblr.com/)(tumblr) and my newest beta [Waela ](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/5470087/Waela)(FFnet) for doing their utmost best to eliminate ever more of the little errors that reside in my writing.

Three Years Ago

To say Elsa was pleased about her promotion to leader would be an outright lie. To say her fellow heroes were pleased about it would be an overstatement. To say the public was pleased about it would be . . . a stretch of the imagination.

Nothing has changed crime-wise since Shadow stepped down, but with Elsa's inexperience coupled with Shadow's leave of absence, the league is at the most disadvantage it's been at since the events of the previous year. To make things worse, Arson has been seen in public, under broad daylight, for the first time in months.

Elsa isn't ready to deal with this; she knows she's not, but she doesn't have the choice to abstain anymore.

This must have been how Shadow felt when the old elites went up in flame.

Elsa lands on the top of a skyscraper, scanning a city she has never visited before, and selfishly prays that the other leaguers find Arson first. With all of Elsa and Arson's encounters ending with pain, blood and death, Elsa doubts anyone can blame her for the dread-filled anxiety pooling in her chest; her general unwillingness to face Arson again.

" _Blizzard, you copy?_ " Hercules asks, her voice sounding through the league issued communication device in Elsa's ear.

Elsa sighs softly through her nose. "Yeah," she says, even if she wishes otherwise. "What's your status?"

Hercules chuckles, but there's a nervous flutter to it. " _I'm alive, if that's what you mean_ ," she says.

That isn't what Elsa means, but it's good to hear nonetheless. "How's—" she frowns, considering her words. She winces, deciding to bite the bullet. "Zeus, how are you holding up?"

" _I hate you and I want to go home_ ," Kida snaps, as if she were waiting for this bomb to drop. " _I don't understand why you had to choose me for this mission, of all people_."

 _Because Hercules is stronger than Arson, and Arson's weak to ice and lightning_ , Elsa thinks, but this isn't an issue logic can fix. "I don't want to be here anymore than you do, Zeus," she murmurs.

" _None of us want to be here_ ," Hercules agrees, shuffling scratching through the signal. " _Arson_ —" she sighs. " _She's not someone we can compete against, you know? With her regular powers sure, we could pose a threat, but her black fire renders our efforts_ —"

"We know, Hercules," Elsa cuts in, gritting her teeth. "But we're not opposing her for ourselves; we're doing it for Earth."

Kida laughs, loud and scathing. " _So we're fighting enough to make it look like we're dealing with the problem, but in reality we're holding back so Arson doesn't lose her fucking shit on us again?_ " she asks, rhetorical.

" _Well, I mean_ ," a new voice says, " _you_ could _make me blow my top, but I don't think any of us want that_." A tinkling laugh follows. " _'Sup guys?_ "

Elsa can't help but shriek.

" _Jesus Christ!_ " Hercules bellows. " _Arson's on the line!_ "

" _Duh_ ," Arson drawls. " _You idiots didn't change the damn frequencies of your mission transmission gear, and my phone is programmed to pick them up when they're used in proximity to me. You should get Calhoun to correct that before I overhear something important_."

Despite herself, Elsa pauses, confusion swirling in her brain. If this is the case, why would Arson say anything at all? This could have been a method to gather intelligence for months or years to come, but she ousted herself as if it didn't mean a thing.

Instead of voicing her suspicion, Elsa sticks to something simple, saying, "So you _are_ in this city."

A slow clap echoes faintly through the line. " _Wow_ ," Arson drones. " _Your deductive reasoning is truly unparalleled— uh, Justice? Sorry, you all sound the same to me_."

The muscles in Elsa's jaw bulge and twitch. "Blizzard," she spits.

" _Oh!_ " Arson crows, sounding . . . pleased. " _I was hoping you'd be one of the heroes trotting after me._ " Elsa narrows her eyes, but Arson continues without pause." _Ares is planning on hitting this city with a meteor shower, and your particular powers are the league's best chance to stop this shit before she does something fucking stupid like actually go through with it._ "

Elsa frowns. "Why would you throw your ally under the bus?" she asks.

Arson barks a laugh. " _Really, Blizzard? I've done worse to people I was friends with for years_ ," she says, making Elsa's chest tighten at the reminder. She almost misses the subtle crack in Arson's voice; although it could have been a moment of weak signal connection. " _Seriously though,_ " Arson continues, " _I may consort with villains now but they piss me off as much as you fucks do sometimes; but I can't outright stop them from enacting their idiotic world-ending plans without looking like a goddamn good guy, and I can't have that, can I? It might muddle up your conscience._ "

Kida snarls, finding her voice. " _We won't play your game, Arson_ ," she snaps.

After a moment of silence, Arson chortles. " _Kida?_ " she laughs. " _Is that you?_ "

" _Zeus_ ," Kida growls, but there's a tremor to her voice. Elsa winces, feeling sorry for the meta-alien. " _My name is Zeus_."

" _Says the well-known princess who's too stupid to wear a mask_ ," Arson says, as if scolding a small child. " _If you'll remember, Princess,_ " she adds, as smooth as silk, " _you were the one who admitted the league is already dancing to my tune; because no one wants a repeat of last time. Unless that_ is _what you want? For me to_ "—she chuckles, dark and grating, if a little choked—"finish? _I didn't quite get there last time_."

Kida whimpers, shrinking away from speech.

Righteous ire burns in Elsa's gut. "Leave her alone," she snarls. "It's me who you want to do your damn dirty work, isn't it? So tell me what you want me to do."

The line is silent for a couple seconds; long enough for Elsa to think the villain dropped the call.

Then, muffled, she hears:

" _I don't fucking care what you want, Lyle_." A pause. " _Say that again, I fucking dare you. No—_ no!" Arson bellows, her words crystal clear for, " _I will tie you over a goddamn blender just so I can lower you and laugh as it chops and grinds up your fucking penis. Do you want that?_ Do you want that? _Answer me you pretentious piece of shit!_ "

Elsa's eyebrows raise into her hairline, straining to hear the rest when the voices fade.

Shuffling crackles over the line. " _I'm on the phone because people actually want to have sex with me unlike you, you fat greasy fuck!_ " Arson bellows. Someone shouts back, but it's too muffled to make out. Arson laughs. " _You're not big enough to choke a fucking fetus, let alone me_."

Elsa's head snaps back, her lip curling. Her stomach rolls, and she hopes she can keep down her minimal lunch.

Arson chortles, but it's dark, dangerous. " _Oh by all means_ ," she laughs, " _stick your cock in my mouth; just don't expect to cum. I mean, that would require your penis to_ not _burn off your body, you know? And, I feel compelled to warn you, I also have a nasty bite. Yeah, that's right, walk away you fucking moron!_ " Shuffling sounds again. " _Sorry about that_ ," Arson apologies, her lowered voice ringing clear once more. " _What were we talking about? Oh, right – I don't want you to confront Ares herself; I want you to confront me_."

Elsa chokes on her own spit.

" _Are you insane?_ " Hercules intercedes. " _Why would she do that? That's suicide!_ "

" _I'm not going to kill her, Jesus,_ _am I surrounded by idiots?_ " Arson berates. " _Do I need to spell it out for you?_ "

" _Please do_ ," Hercules growls.

Arson releases a long-suffering sigh. " _Athena preserve me,_ " she murmurs, and Arson using that name reignites the anger coiling in Elsa's gut. " _Look, I'm the distraction_ ," Arson explains. " _Ares needs time to gather the amount of magic she'll require which, with her strength, won't be long; but she asked me to be the villain to stall for time because, a, I won't die in the blast, and b, she doesn't think the league will risk going up against me again._

" _I suppose she's right, in a way_ ," Arson admits, " _but what's she's not accounting for is me_ not wanting _to win. And, if you'll remember, last time your ragtag team had managed to subdue me before I tried blasting your asses into space. So, even after I technically won, the other villains saw that it rendered my arms no better than dead weight for the better part of a few months, and it raised whispers that maybe,_ maybe _, the league would get powerful enough to take me down; and that doubt is all I need to make this work_.

" _I can rig a public fight where you win, Blizzard,_ " Arson says, wrapping up her plan, " _but I need you to cooperate with me. Sound good?_ "

No. No it does not.

Elsa twitches a humourless smile. "No offense," she says, "but I have no inclination to believe you. If you've done worse to friends, what assurance do I have?"

Arson hums, grave. " _None_ ," she rumbles. Fabric rustles. " _I gotta go. And, since I know you're listening, Calhoun, change your goddamn frequencies_." The line clicks.

Silence hangs heavy over the communication line.

Elsa claws at her icy helm, the sound of ice grinding ice giving her an anchor to latch onto.

" _Stop stressing, Blizzard_ ," Hercules utters. " _You're hurting my ear_."

"Sorry," Elsa utters, clutching at her icy breastplate.

If Elsa didn't know better, didn't see the horrors Arson inflected first hand, she would be inclined to forgive the fire meta. Even with the villain's foul language, her charisma and compelling waves of speech tug at Elsa's soul in a way she never knew possible. Hero or villain, Arson commands even the most powerful metas to follow her every order.

Arson was born to lead, unlike Elsa. She was born to captivate the public and manipulate options into her favour and protect her friends and, just, _be a leader_. Arson swearing and being crude? It's a calculated move. No one as good at public persuasion as Arson would gap out in the fact that the rougher one's speech pattern becomes, the less likely people are to listen to said person giving sound reason. Before her villainous debut, hearing the fire meta swear in the eyes of the outside world was rare, if not unheard of. It was only _after_ she killed the other elites that Arson's speech patterns changed.

Even then, these aren't things that people forget. Even in this short conversation – Arson barely swore when addressing the heroes, but when she was addressing Lyle she swore every second word.

Arson knows _exactly_ what she's doing when it comes to speech. She plans ahead. She makes people form opinions of her or others that she _wants_ them to have, while never outright stating it.

The question is, what opinion does Arson want to instill?

Pain explodes through Elsa's skull.

Wind rushes past her, but her brain is too foggy to register anything other than the splitting pain throbbing in her temple. Voices cry out to her, she thinks, but it's hard to tell over the blood thrumming in her ears. She has enough presence of mind to reform her fractured helm, but not enough to notice the ground rushing towards her.

Blinding light burns Elsa's eyes and she slams them shut, shielding her head with her arms. Heat engulfs her, for a moment, and then she hits the ground with barely a bump; a second before the ground concaves around her from the force of a secondary impact. It's loud, deafening, and it takes all of Elsa's concentration to protect her ringing ears with a padding of snow.

A rough hand grabs Elsa's ice-armoured forearm, hard enough to send fractures through the ice, and yanks her upright.

"Sorry, Blizzard," a familiar voice says, sending chills down Elsa's spine. "But it's time for me to stop playing nice."

Elsa's body alerts, fear and adrenaline pumping through her veins; allowing her to take stock of the situation.

Fading smoke clogs the street around them. Car alarms blare. People are screaming. Sirens whir in the distance. Elsa herself is held up by her arm, the rest of her body slack beneath her. She struggles to correct it, but her limbs aren't responding as well as they should.

Arson tilts her head, her eyes hard and cold. Her gaze flicks to Elsa's feet, the corners of her eyes crinkling in empty amusement. "It's not fun when a meta renders your limbs useless, is it?" she asks, a dark, ironic glint in her eyes as her gaze locks with Elsa's. "Only I don't require trickery or handicaps in my enemies to ensure victory." She shoves Elsa away and, after stumbling over herself, Elsa regains her balance to stand on shaky legs. "See?" Arson says, with a wide, theatrical gesture. "As good as new." She chuckles, low and grating. "I mean it's only fun to cripple when they're conscious. You taught me that."

Elsa's throat clamps. While she doesn't regret what she did to Arson, not with what came after, the possibility of Arson doing the same to her is terrifying. Sure Rapunzel can heal whatever damage Arson does, but Elsa doubts the villain will inflict pain in a non-traumatizing manner.

Arson looks around, her sharp eyes scanning their surroundings as the smoke fades. "So many people," she murmurs, almost too low to hear. She sends Elsa a frightening stare, a manic glint in her eyes. "What do you say about giving them a show?"

" _Zeus, Hercules_ ," Calhoun barks over the comm, " _I got feed on Arson. Get to—_ "

Whatever she says next filters into the background when, with a blast, Arson surges forward. Elsa summons a wall of ice and leaps aside, escaping Arson and the shards of her hasty barrier when the villain plows through it. Elsa's eyes pinch, doing her best to duck, weave and dodge as Arson lunges for her.

Elsa wasn't trained in martial arts and her fighting skills are shoddy at best, even with the tutelage of the former junior leaguers. Her main form of battle is with magic because, as things stand, she knows she isn't a physical match for her foes. If her super strength was more prominent, sure; but it's not – it's just _there_ , which is useless when all magically inclined metas have the same super strength level as her, if not more.

"You're thinking," Arson tsk's, slamming her fist into Elsa's stomach in a brutal uppercut. The force cuts through Elsa's armour like wet paper, sending out splinters of ice in a concussive shockwave. It reflects the light of the midday sun, sending an array of colours dancing on the fighting duo, the broken asphalt, the dust in the air. In any other moment, Elsa might have enjoyed such a sight.

The blow launches Elsa into the air. She can't breathe. She can't think. It reminds her of the first time her and Arson fought, only back then Elsa had put up more of a fight.

Maybe fear has crippled her after all.

Arson grabs Elsa by the throat, holding her five stories above the ground. She hovers without sway, effortless and easy, while Elsa chokes and claws at Arson's armour reinforced uniform.

"Do you know what the difference between us is?" Arson asks, as if she actually expects an answer. "When hope was no longer enough, I didn't give up," she says. "I didn't grovel, or whimper like a mutt; I stood against daunting odds knowing my chances of survival were slim, because I have something greater than my physical skin that I need to protect. Tell me, poster child," Arson spits, pulling Elsa in until their eyes are a mere ruler length apart. "What do _you_ fight for? What, or who, would you fight for until your dying breath, even if your opponent was me? Maybe," she ponders, her irises glinting with malevolence, "if I went after that, or them, you'd pull your tail from between your legs and face me like a meta." She pulls Elsa even closer, until the winter hero's nose almost touches Arson's mask. "I can promise you, Blizzard," Arson rumbles, "I will find your Achilles' heel, even if I have to rip through everyone you love to get to it, if it will make you _hero, the fuck, up_."

An explosion surges from Arson's body, sending Elsa flying.

Elsa stabilizes her descent with controlled blasts of winter air, all while choking oxygen back into her lungs. She can fly or hover using this method, but she isn't trained to fight while doing it.

"Two defeats," Arson bellows, as the blast smoke dissipates, "is that all it takes for you to throw in the towel? Well," she says, the red lines of her uniform shimmering through the heat waves around her, "I don't accept your towel." Her eyes flash, stray flames licking her uniform. "This is your last chance, Blizzard," Arson shouts, her voice raising above the den of chaotic noise on the streets below, "either you fight me like the Protector you are, or I'll bury you." Elsa's heart leaps into her throat. " _This_ "—Arson gestures her arms wide—"is the battle that defines you! So _define yourself!_ "

Arson surges forward, taking Elsa around the waist and slamming her into the ground; or, more specifically, into a car. Elsa, the wind ripped from her lungs once again, releases a barrage of ice. To her surprise, Arson heeds the spikes and skips away – twirling, flipping and melting her way through the downpour of death.

"That's right!" Arson calls, from somewhere in the chaos of splintering ice. "Fight for yourself! Fight for your friends!" Arson takes Elsa into a chokehold from behind and, with a sinister chuckle, whispers, "Fight for Athena." Anger boils in the pit of Elsa's stomach, and she struggles. "Fight for Hades," Arson continues. Elsa roars, slamming her elbow into Arson's armoured side over, and over again, despite the cracking of her ice. "Fight for Bear," Arson says.

"Shut up!" Elsa howls, plunging the immediate area into an isolated ice age. She feels heat melting through her armour, wherever Arson's body touches her ice. Arson chuckles, dark and grave.

"Fight for Black Dragon," Arson says, her muscles bulging to dig the metal plates in her uniform into Elsa's throat. "And, most important of them all," she purrs, the slits of her mask against Elsa's ear hissing open. Arson's voice drops, dangerous and seductive, and she says, "Fight, for the Arson you lost; fight, against the Arson who betrayed you; _fight_ , to avenge the old elites!"

Rage and adrenaline pulses through Elsa's veins; it overrules her common sense, her fear, and throws caution to the wind. Elsa grabs the arm around her throat, sending a concentrated blast into the fabric, the metal, the flesh.

Arson yelps and leaps backwards, cradling her arm.

"You want to see a meta?" Elsa bellows, her magic churning around her, glinting in the sun and giving her a dangerous, glowing aura. "I'll show you a meta!" she roars, throwing her hands forward.

Arson's eyes widen and, taking a knee, she slams her fist into the ground. The asphalt beneath her liquefies, and a dome of fire spins around her, protecting her against the onslaught of Elsa's beam of ultimate zero.

"You can't hide in there forever, Arson!" Elsa shouts, her teeth grinding.

Arson glances up, meeting the winter hero's eye. The open slits on Arson's mask close, muffling whatever the villain might have said in response. That in itself should have been warning enough.

Arson bolts into the sky, too fast for Elsa to keep up. A second later the sound barrier breaks, and a shockwave is sent through the street. Elsa braces against the wind, shielding her face with an arm as she scans the sky, the alleyways, the nearby buildings.

" _Blizzard!_ " Hercules cries, her voice breaking in and out. " _If you can— for anoth— we'll b— help you!_ "

"Roger!" Elsa replies, although she can't be certain if her teammates can hear her.

Someone grabs hold of Elsa's back plate, yanking her backwards; startling Elsa into emitting a wave of snow, which is countered with an explosion – sending them both to the ground, Elsa on top.

Arson looses a hearty laugh, shoving Elsa away and staggering to her feet. "I should scare you more often," Arson says, her eyes crinkling in sinister amusement. "It doesn't give you time to think of ways to be stupid."

Elsa stands, her teeth gritting and her hands clenching in and out of fists. "Can you be anymore fucking annoying?" she spits, ice crackling around her feet.

"Oh," Arson says, a rumbling chuckle rolling from her throat, "I'm certain you know the answer to that."

A primal growl rips through Elsa's lungs and she rushes forward, engaging in the very combat she sought to avoid. Only this time, she isn't thinking. She isn't planning. She isn't trying to remain in control.

Elsa's magic responds naturally to her desires, using isolated bursts of winter air to speed up her attacks or to dislodge Arson's. The villain counters in the same manner, sending flashes of fire lingering in Elsa's vision.

"What do you know," Arson sniggers, blocking punch after kick after blast of ice. She even has the gall to put a hand in her pocket. "I guess old dogs can learn new tricks after all."

Hatred burns in Elsa's chest and, vaguely, she wonders if this is what it feels like to have fire trapped inside the skin. If it is, there isn't a wonder Arson went crazy.

"Just fucking die!" Elsa bellows, blasting her fist forward.

Arson tilts her head just enough for Elsa to miss, grabs the hero's forearm and twists them both with the hero's momentum. Elsa trips over a broken piece of asphalt. Arson herself staggers, releasing the hero's arm to regain her balance.

Elsa shoots a spike of ice at Arson, even as she tries to regain her balance. Arson catches the ice mid air. Without the use of her arm to stable her shaky footing, the villain falls backwards, with a _crunch_.

"Damn it!" Arson snarls, melting the ice. She places her hand on the ground and slips. She looks down. "Awesome," the villain growls, flicking red paint off her fingers. "You are a real pain in the ass, do you know that?" Arson asks. "Like a pet who keeps shitting on the carpet." She pushes to a knee, a chuckle shaking her chest. "I will give you credit for one thing, though," she says, her eyes crinkling in amusement. "You make it very easy for me to do my job. So for that I thank you, and bid you adieu. Good luck, little hero." The villain's gaze flicks skywards and, under her breath, she whispers, "You're going to need it."

With a break of the sound barrier, Arson is gone.

Elsa's heart drops like lead, and she looks to the sky, scanning for meteors.

"Calhoun, can you hear me?" Elsa asks, using her powers to hoist herself into the air. She is nowhere near as graceful as Arson, but she clears the top of the skyscrapers with little issue. She looks around. No meteors, no insane god of war, no Arson.

"— _arely_ ," Calhoun responds, her voice cracking in and out. " _Ars_ — _a bu— working on i_ —"

Elsa's eyes pinch, her pulse hammering in her veins. How long can she spare before Ares' attack commences? She turns her sights down, scanning for Hercules and Zeus, when something . . . odd, catches her attention.

The pedestrians are cheering.

"What the fuck?" Elsa murmurs. She drops her altitude—faster than she means to—and, the closer she gets to the ground, the clearer the ecstatic chanting becomes.

_Blizzard! Blizzard! Blizzard!_

Elsa blinks. She doesn't understand – are they happy because Arson left without flattening the city? If so, that's a depressing thing to celebrate.

The moment Elsa's feet touch the ground she's surrounded by people and cameras, and she staggers at the onslaught of attention. "Uh, hello," Elsa says, her fingers fluttering with anxious energy.

"You beat her!" a random person cries.

"You saved us!" cries another.

"Blizzard!" shouts a newscaster, her arms waving to catch Elsa's attention in the den. "Can you please tell the folks around the world how you took Arson down?" She shoves her microphone in Elsa's face.

"I— I'm sorry?" Elsa asks, her eyes widening. She didn't win, not by a long shot.

The reporter brings the microphone back to her own lips, and says, "We all saw how you pummeled Arson, even succeeding in making her bleed. Care to enlighten our viewers with how you were able to accomplish such a feat?" The microphone is moved back to Elsa.

Elsa thinks back to the red paint, then to her conversation with the villain over the comm. There's no way that's what this was, is it?

"Blizzard!" a familiar voice shouts. "Goddammit, get out of my way!" Hercules shoves her way through the crowd, her features twisted in panic. "Are you okay?" she asks, scanning Elsa for injuries. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," Elsa says, turning back to the reporter. "Do you have a feed of the fight I can look at, by any chance? It might help me figure out where she went."

Hercules' eyes bulge. "You can't be serious," she says. "Why would you—"

Elsa holds up a halting hand, watching as the woman digs her phone out of her pocket.

"Got it!" blurts a pedestrian, rushing forward and holding his phone up for Elsa to see; eager to please.

"Thank you," Elsa murmurs, watching with a keen eye. Hercules steps behind her, a curious tilt to her head as she watches from over Elsa's shoulder.

The feed starts only after Arson initially took Elsa to the ground, and it features the villain winning up until Elsa attempts to freeze Arson's arm. From there on, Arson's arm is only half responsive; Elsa takes Arson to the ground; Elsa has the advantage in the hand-to-hand combat, even making Arson back up from her; Elsa smokes Arson across the face, and then Elsa shoots Arson to the ground, puncturing her back and sending blood gushing everywhere.

Hercules releases a surprised, hearty laugh, and claps Elsa on the shoulder. "You did it, Blizzard!" she cheers. "You won!"

Only, she didn't.

Elsa sends the pedestrian a curt nod, her eyes tightening. "Thank you," she says, "I think I know how to find her, now." She glances to Hercules. "Where's Zeus?" she asks. "We have to go."

Hercules frowns. "She was on her way, last I checked," she says, confusion shining in her eyes. "Is everything okay?"

 _No. It's not_ , Elsa thinks, but does little more than grab Hercules' forearm and lead her out of the fray of people.

" _Okay_ ," Calhoun says, " _communications are back up to full strength. Arson really did a number on_ —"

"Thanks," Elsa interrupts. "Zeus, are you close to my location?"

" _I don't think so_ ," Zeus replies, her accent thicker than normal. She must be stressed. " _I was following the explosions, but when they stopped_ —"

"Calhoun," Elsa cuts in, "can you fly our jet to pick up Zeus and then Herc and myself? We'll be on the top of a skyscraper."

Hercules tilts her head. "Will w— _eee!_ "

With a platform of ice beneath their feet, Elsa rockets them into the sky and steps onto a nearby building. Hercules stumbles after her, looking sick.

" _Will do_ ," Calhoun replies. " _And, out of curiosity,_ " she says, " _I was watching the live feed of your fight with Arson. Did you actually beat her?_ "

"Not even fucking close," Elsa says, a sneer twisting her lips. "Did you find a location on Ares?" she asks, changing the topic.

" _Ah_ ," Calhoun hums, " _about that_." Elsa tenses. " _Apparently_ ," Calhoun continues, " _Ares' plot wasn't scheduled until next week. Everything Arson told you was true, as far as I can tell, but she was liberal with the specification of when it was happening_."

"Wait," Hercules says, "if Arson kept by what she said before the battle, does that mean—"

"That she rigged the battle to make me look like the victor?" Elsa guesses, with a sour expression. "Yeah. She did."

" _Which is dangerous_ ," Calhoun warns. " _If villains believe you're strong enough to go toe-to-toe with Arson, you're going to become a target of other high-profile villains; ones you're not capable of taking on_."

Elsa pales. As if this day wasn't bad enough.

"Is there any good news?" Hercules asks, steadying the winter hero with a hand to the shoulder.

" _Well_ ," Calhoun considers, " _villainous activity should either drop or become less organized with Arson's display of failure_."

" _I can't see Arson shooting herself in the foot like that_ ," Zeus says. " _I can see her_ literally _shooting herself in the foot, but she doesn't have anything to gain by weakening her own position with the villains._ "

" _Maybe_ ," Calhoun allows. " _But Arson is a very tactical person. We could pass her actions off as a calculated risk—and it could very well be just that—but there are any number of ways Arson could have thwarted Ares' that wouldn't have affected her position. She chose this particular method for a reason_."

"Yeah, that's the scary bit," Elsa murmurs. She melts her helmet enough to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Calhoun, can you set up the training room for me? I need to . . . prepare."

" _Of course_ ," Calhoun says. A Protector jet slows to a stop beside the building. " _But first, let's get you all back to the league_."

* * *

Present Day

Elsa steps off the ship and makes her way through the base. She's been gone for a week, and while part of her wishes she had stayed away longer, another part is happy to be back.

"Hey guys," Elsa says, as she steps into the living room. Ariel and Belle, the only two in present, look up from their respective tasks; napping and reading.

"Elsa!" Ariel cheers, flashing a blinding smile. She even sits up, which is rare when the meta-alien is resting. "How've you been?"

Elsa shrugs, taking a seat opposite Belle. "I've been holding up," she deflects. "What's been happening around here? Anything interesting?"

Ariel's eyes light up. "We got a new meta!" she coos.

Belle's eyebrows fall into an unamused line. "Anna isn't a meta," she says. "You know this."

Ariel grins. "She's really nice," she says, ignoring Belle.

Belle pinches the bridge of her nose. "God preserve me," she mutters.

"Who is Anna, again?" Elsa asks, stifling her humour.

Belle sets her book aside. "How much do you know about what's been going on since you rescued your parents?" she asks.

"I requested radio silence, so not much," Elsa says. "I mean, Punz was griping about Merida stabbing somebody before she stormed off and she didn't come back since, so I'm assuming something bad happened."

Belle's features twist. "'Bad' isn't the word I'd use to describe our . . . situation, but it's an apt enough description," she says. "The woman Merida stabbed is Anna Lehne—"

"Who is very nice," Ariel cuts in, with a heartwarming grin.

"Can you not?" Belle asks, a snide curl to her lips. "As I was saying, Anna was a technician for the old elites. Even with Scar on the team, Anna was called in to handle the more 'elite' matters, because she's the only person outside the elites themselves who was privy to elite-level information."

Elsa sits ramrod straight. "Is that so?" she asks.

Ariel leans over, a conspiratorial hand cupping her mouth. "Belle's upset because a civilian has more access to Calhoun's information than we do," she stage whispers.

"Can you _not?_ " Belle snaps, an irritated twitch to her eyebrows. "And yes," she admits, to Elsa, "this _does_ upset me because it means she not only has access to all of _our_ files—there's a reason we're not in costume—it means she also has access to all of the _old elites'_ files, and damn near everything else Calhoun has stored in her system and do you know how much Anna has told us? So little it's actually painful."

Elsa's eyes flash. "Does this mean she knows who Arson is?" she asks.

"Oh, yeah," Belle says, waving a dismissive hand. "She admitted to knowing the identities of all the old elites from before the first Incident; she just never told anyone, and continues not to. When Jane confronted her about it, Anna turned it around and asked why the old junior leaguers never revealed Scar's identity to the rest of the league. When Jane didn't answer, Anna said something to the effect of, 'everyone has their secrets and their reasons for keeping them.' Calhoun backed her on it, and told the league to drop the subject."

Elsa hesitates, noting the contempt swirling in Belle's eyes. Belle may have developed a shorter fuse over the last couple years, but burning hatred like this is disconcerting.

"What else happened?" Elsa asks.

"Oh!" Ariel cheers, her eyes sparkling. "Mulan sent a team to Berk to make new friends!"

Elsa's eyebrows arch. "She what now?" she asks.

Belle sighs. "Calhoun gave Mulan a tip that the king and queen of Berk, metas who control a planet of dragons, needed help apprehending a villain. They are _not_ "—Belle shoots Ariel a pointed look—"'making friends.'"

"I mean, they technically are," Ariel defends. "We help them and they help us, yeah?"

"That would be an alliance," Belle corrects.

"And eventual friendship," Ariel chirps.

Belle glares. "I swear to fucking God, Ariel—"

"So who went?" Elsa interrupts, before the heroes can bite each other's head off. "And when will they be getting back?"

"Shang, Ezzy and—" Ariel starts.

"Ezzy?" Elsa interrupts. "You mean Es?"

"Esmeralda? Yeah," Belle confirms. She juts a judgmental finger Ariel's way. "Ezzy is this idiot's nickname for her, because Ariel can't stand being fucking normal for five goddamn minutes."

Ariel huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. "Just because I'm not emo doesn't mean I'm not normal," she grumbles. "Besides," she jabs a thumb into her chest, "have you seen my abs? I mean, look!" She grabs the edge of her shirt and lifts it up, revealing her stomach.

Belle shields her eyes. "I've seen much more than your stomach, thank you very much," she mutters.

Ariel shrugs, releasing her shirt and smoothing out the wrinkles. "If I sense trouble I'm going to go help, clothes or not," she says.

"Nope, not talking about this again," Belle says, shaking her head and zoning her attention back to Elsa. A very amused Elsa. " _Anyway_ ," Belle stresses, "Shang, Es and Kida were sent to Berk about a week ago, and aren't due to arrive home for another week or so."

Elsa's eyebrows raise. "That's it?" she asks. "Huh," she airs, "for some reason I would've thought Berk was further away."

"It's far alright," Belle laughs, "but luckily for us"—Elsa doesn't miss the sarcasm—"Anna was able to unlock the top speeds on the ship being used for the duration of the mission. Our crew was able to get there in a couple days; the same amount of time it would take us to get to the moon with our regular speeds."

"I— what top speeds?" Elsa questions. "I wasn't aware our ships had any speeds other than what we had access to."

"Well," Belle says, with a sardonic twirl of her wrist, "that would be because they're under elite lock-out and can only be utilized by someone with elite access. And, before you ask," she adds, before Elsa can fire another question, "the old elites didn't tell anyone these settings were programmed into the ships. They kept it a secret just like everything else they did, and just like Anna continues to do in their place."

"But Anna's trying," Ariel defends. "Despite Belle's biased account, Anna is revealing a lot of the mysteries of the base itself to us, at her own pace; which I applaud her for. It can't be easy for her, being here."

Elsa tilts her head.

Belle sighs. "Anna has PTSD," she explains.

" _Bad_ PTSD," Ariel corrects. "She couldn't sleep when she first came here—before your rescue mission even finished—and I woke up because Anna was screaming. I rushed to the scene—"

"With an open robe," Belle adds.

"And my trident," Ariel says, flashing Belle a sassy smirk. Belle rolls her eyes and points to Elsa in a 'go on' motion. Ariel sticks out her tongue. Elsa covers her mouth to hide her amusement. "Anyway," Ariel continues, "when I got to Anna and Belle—Belle got there before me—Anna was crying, kept murmuring about being sorry and, at one point, begged us not to hurt her anymore. We were nowhere near her."

Belle's eyebrows furrow. "That's been bugging me, actually," she says. She doesn't elaborate.

"Awesome," Elsa murmurs, leaning back in her chair. "Is there anyone affiliated with this damn league that doesn't have mental issues?"

Ariel raises her hand.

"Put your damn hand down," Belle snaps. "You might have a sunnier disposition than a damn star but you're a fucking crazy woman. Alien. Fish. Whatever the fuck you are."

Ariel, after a moment of debate, puts her hand back down. Elsa bites the inside of her lip to keep from laughing.

"You two are unbe-fucking-lievable," Elsa says, twitching a smirk when Belle shoots her a good natured glare. "So-o-o," the winter hero drawls, "what's Anna like?"

"Oo!" Ariel whoops, her eyes sparkling. "She's so nice!"

Belle slaps herself in the face. "Can you _please_ stop saying that?" she gripes. Elsa notes the ire in the lines of Belle's forehead, but doesn't comment on it.

"What?" Ariel asks. "She cuddles with me and we share food. She's awesome."

"No," Belle snips, "you accost her and hold her captive on the couch because, and I quote, 'she looks lonely. I will make her not lonely.'"

"Well it worked," Ariel boasts, with a wide grin.

"It worked in making Anna do her utmost best to avoid you," Belle says. "You remember how the rest of the league members asked you to stop with the intense physical affection because it made them uncomfortable?" she asks, a rhetorical question. "Well, it makes Anna uncomfortable, too. _God_ ," she mutters under her breath, "I cannot believe I'm defending that woman."

"Meh, she'll get used to it," Ariel deflects. She looks to Elsa. "How are your parents?"

Elsa's eyebrows furrow. "They're . . . struggling to cope, I think," she says.

Belle leans forward. "How so?" she asks.

_Bang!_

"Goddamn it, Calhoun!" someone coughs, followed by metallic bangs of someone trying—and failing—to escape one of the many vent systems.

Calhoun's cackling can be heard all the way from the hallway to the lounge.

"I— did I miss something?" Elsa asks, bewildered.

Belle smirks. "Calhoun likes playing pranks on Anna," she says.

"I don't approve of that," Ariel says, her lips pursing. "Anna needs tender loving care, not cruel jokes."

"Yeah well your 'tender loving care' makes her run for the hills so Calhoun's method wins," Belle retorts. "Besides, it's funny."

Ariel narrows her eyes. "Just because you're jealous Anna has higher access than you doesn't mean you should encourage violence towards her," she berates.

"I can do whatever I damn well please," Belle snaps. Elsa notices the loathing flaring in Belle's gaze once more. Just what happened while Elsa was gone?

"No, you _didn't_ have to," a dusty redhead snaps as she stomps into the lounge, heading for the kitchen. "You just wanted to drop a fucking grate on my head."

"I was just trying to hit some of the rocks out of your skull," Calhoun defends. "For all my hard work, you really should be thanking me."

" _Thanking_ you?" the redhead bites. "Why in the—" she pauses, turning to the three heroes. Or, more on point, she stares at Belle, who roars with laughter.

"See?" Calhoun says, smug. "Belle thinks it's funny."

"Yeah," the redhead mutters, "she would."

Elsa rolls her eyes and stands, closing the distance between herself and the stranger. She offers her hand. "Hey," she says, with a charming smile, "you're Anna, right? I've heard good things about you."

"I— I— hi, you," Anna stammers, her neck flushing. "Yeah, I'm me. Anna, I mean. I'm Anna." She notices Elsa's hand. "Oh! Sorry!" she grabs Elsa's hand, but forgets to shake. "You're Elsa, yeah?" A harsh swallow bulges Anna's throat and her eyes struggle to stay on Elsa's, but they still flick down to examine the rest of the winter hero. "Oh my good lord," Anna chokes, her ears and nose burning as bright as her neck. She points to the kitchen with her free hand. "Do you want a gorgeous, hot chocolate?" Elsa blinks. Anna cheeks flush. "I mean do you want a hot chocolate, gorgeo— actually, I'm just going to go. Bye. You're great. I love your clothes. They're very . . . clothe-y." She tries to walk away and whiplashes, forgetting to let go of Elsa's hand. Anna looses an awkward laugh. "Does this mean we're at second base already?" Elsa's eyebrows shoot into her hairline. Anna's eyes bulge.

Anna releases Elsa's hand and wipes it off on her dusty black hoodie. "I am so sorry," Anna apologizes. "I'm really awkward and you're just—" a needy moan escapes her throat. Anna clamps her hands over her mouth, horrified. Calhoun howls with laughter over the speakers. Belle's humour sobers, her eyes hardening.

Anna turns heel and bolts into the kitchen, catching her shoulder on the doorframe and collapsing into the other room in a painful sounding fall.

"Are . . . are you okay?" Elsa asks, taking a step toward the kitchen.

"Fine!" Anna shouts, a hint of panic in her tone. "I'm fine! I'm good! No need to check on me! Go away please!" Less audible, Elsa hears a dull slap and a, 'goddammit, woman, get it together.'

"Uh, okay," Elsa relents. She walks back to her seat. "Is she always so . . . excitable?" she asks, words slow.

Ariel giggles, her eyes glinting with mirth. "Excitable? Sure, but she is definitely never like that," she says. "I guess that means your picture didn't do your beauty justice, because that was hardcore fluster we witnessed right there. You could have asked her to drop her pants and she—"

"Enough, Ariel," Belle interrupts, terse. "Elsa, what were you saying about your parents?"

Elsa blinks. "Right," she murmurs, sitting back in her chair. "Well, my parents have been different ever since Punz and I brought them home. They've been harsher, less friendly. I've been chalking it up to the trauma they went through; they weren't outwardly hurt besides a few scrapes and bruises, but they had a couple needle punctures."

Belle frowns. "What were they injected with?" she asks.

"I don't know," Elsa sighs. "We took blood samples when my team and I found them, and Mulan gave those samples to Calhoun, but she didn't find anything. Calhoun emailed me the results."

"Can I see these results?" Belle asks.

"Sure," Elsa says, reaching for her phone. As her hand touches her pocket a screen on the far wall materializes, showing the report. "That works, too," she says.

Belle shifts to view the screens better. She's silent as she examines them.

"Were they starved?" Ariel asked. "Or denied essentials?"

Elsa shakes her head. "Besides their few injuries, my parents are as healthy as a horse," she says, "and their skin and clothes don't indicate they were abused by weather or rough treatment."

"That's odd," Ariel hums, glancing to the test results.

"Tell me about it," Elsa says, running her fingers through her bangs. "There wasn't even any lingering sleeping agent in their system. I don't know what happened."

"Calhoun, do you have brain scans?" Anna says, startling Elsa. The winter hero turns, but whatever she was going to say dies in her throat at the harsh set of Anna's features.

"I don't," Calhoun says. "Why do you ask?"

"Over the time Elsa's parents were held captive, were there any inbound or outbound ships?" Anna asks.

"No," Calhoun says.

"Teleportations?" Anna asks.

"If there were I don't have the right frequencies to pick them up," Calhoun replies. "Why? What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking a lot of things," Anna murmurs, stepping behind Ariel's couch. Her eyes narrow at the report. "Elsa," she says, not changing her line of sight, "how different are your parents now compared to how they were before they were kidnapped?"

Belle sends Anna a narrow look, the muscles in her jaw budging.

"Uh, pretty different," Elsa says, frowning at Belle's behaviour. "Not enough to make them unrecognizable, but they're more callous than they were before. They don't express love as much as they used to, and sometimes, when they look at me, I can't tell what they're thinking or feeling. It's eerie."

"Could it fear, or hatred?" Anna guesses, squinting at the screen. "Calhoun, expand the red blood cell count."

"Maybe," Elsa says, ringing her fingers together. "Do you . . . know what's happening?" she asks.

"I think I do," Anna says, scanning the information. Her pupils narrow into pinpricks. "Calhoun, have any Ambassadors came back to Earth since the Ambassador incident?"

Elsa's muscles jump in surprise. "Now wait a minute," she says, "the Ambassadors are a peaceful—"

"They're bloody-well not," Anna snarls. "Watch Hades' general message if you don't believe me. Calhoun!"

Elsa glances to Ariel and Belle for confirmation. They both nod.

"No, they haven't," Calhoun says. "You know this."

"What I know is that an experiment has taken place that has no fucking right being anywhere near Earth," Anna spits. "Did any Ambassadors survive the fleet destruction?"

"I don't kn—"

"Scan Earth again!" Anna bellows, her teeth gnashing together.

Belle stands, her features hard. "Care to let us in on what's going on?" she asks, her voice clipped.

Anna glowers at her, and points to the screen. "Tell me what you see," she grinds.

Belle sneers. "A lower than average red blood cell count," she exasperates. "So what?"

Anna jabs her finger at Elsa. "And what did you hear?" she growls.

Belle throws her hands in the air. "A story about traumatized parents!" she exclaims. "So what?"

Anna flashes a scolding smile. "For someone so smart, you are incredibly dense," she rebukes.

Belle takes an aggressive step forward. "What the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean?" she snarls.

"Exactly what it sounds like," Anna barks. She holds up a halting hand. "Before you go all righteous on my ass, let me jog your selective memory." She holds up a finger. "Scar," she holds up a second finger, "Hades," she holds up a third finger, "Arson," she holds up a fourth finger, "and THFS."

Belle's eyes widen, her aggression giving way to shock, and a tinge of fear. "That . . . that isn't possible," she says, staggering back into her seat.

"I agree, to a point," Anna says. "I agree that THFS can't be involved, but that doesn't mean someone isn't trying to replicate the same effects. The worst part is we don't know how long this has been going on, being passed off as the innumerable kidnappings that happen every year. We're almost lucky the culprit was stupid enough to kidnap someone the league cares about. No offense."

"Offense taken," Elsa and Belle answer, at the same time.

"Fine, whatever," Anna mutters. "The point is that Earth is going to be in a whole lot of trouble if we don't find out who is responsible and put a stop to it."

"Um," Ariel raises her hand, "care to fill in the rest of us who don't know what's going on?"

Anna sighs. "The Ambassadors stole HFS from Calhoun's system before the Incident and turned it into a form of chemical warfare," she explains. "The twisted form, THFS, makes the victim feel as if life is continuing as normal, but all their worst fears start coming to life until they break. Because THFS was made to also distort the brain's perception of time, a decade or two can pass within a day, depending on the victim.

"In layman's terms," Anna says, putting her hands together, "while a permanent personality change can't be forced upon a person, a person can be forced to adopt a new personality to evolve with their circumstances. THFS can do that. And now, someone who knew about the original experiments—and there weren't many—is trying to find another way to replicate the same effect.

"We don't know who they are," Anna says, "or if Earth is their only testing ground, or if they work alone or in a group – nothing. The only good news—and this can be relative—is that now the league knows what's really happening. In saying that, only Scar, Arson and I are aware of what happened before the Ambassador incident in regards to the experiment, so if you want to help shutting this thing down your only options are a half insane former junior leaguer, a hero turned villain, or a civilian with a major dosage of post traumatic stress and a habit of running away from her problems.

"I, alone, cannot help you much," Anna admits, with a wince. "I can help you with information with my access, but that's about it. Scar can help with his intelligence, his vast array of contacts and through people who owe him favours. Arson, while—"

"We're not getting help from Arson," Elsa cuts in.

Anna shrugs. "That's fair," she relents, as if she wasn't expecting any different.

"Question," Ariel says, turning around and resting her arms on the back of the couch. "If I understand everything, and your little hints to Belle, is it safe to assume that THFS was used on Scar, Hades and Arson?" she asks. Anna hesitates, and then nods. "So, in knowing how Scar and Arson turned out, is it also safe to assume that THFS turned them into villains?"

Elsa's eyes widen. Belle looks away. Anna's muscles tense.

"Yes to Scar, and yes slash no to Arson," Anna answers. She pinches the bridge of her nose. "Arson's body produces HFS, so instead of THFS changing her regular personality it created a split one; the one that makes her eyes turn colour. What happened to make her regular personality turn villain, though? Well, that's a mystery."

Ariel nods, considering. "Can she—" she frowns, her gaze flicking aside. "Does this mean Arson can be saved?"

Anna's eyebrows shoot up her forehead, surprise slacking her features. "I— I don't know," Anna admits. "I know she'd be willing to help if your interests align with hers—and you allow her more unorthodox methods—but quit villainy altogether? That's . . . well, it's been a long time."

Ariel hums, rubbing her chin. "I bet she's just lonely," she whispers.

"Okay," Belle snaps, "you are talking about the woman who destroyed a fleet, half a state—scaring half the world into bombing each other— _raped_ Kida, and tried to kill all of us on more occasions than I can count."

Anna winces, her shoulders hunching. "I'm inclined to agree," she murmurs, shoving her hands in her hoodie pocket. "We may never know what her reasons are, but we do know what she's done."

" _There_ you are," a condescending voice snarks.

"Hey, Merida," Anna mutters, without having to look at the applicable entryway.

Merida glances at the screen, still displaying red blood cell counts. "Still boring everybody to death?" the Scottish woman asks. "Seems to be a specialty of yours."

"Right," Belle whispers, turning to Elsa, "one thing we forgot to mention – Anna and Merida used to know each other, and Merida hates Anna for not showing up at her mother's funeral."

"A simplified version of events, but it'll do," Merida says. She flashes Anna a toothy grin; a predator's grin. "You having fun fixing up the place?"

"'Fun' isn't the word I'd use," Anna says.

"Well, 'fun' isn't the word I'd use to attending a funeral where my mom's best friend couldn't even bother to show up, but that's the hand we're dealt," Merida says, her grin widening.

"A lot of people died during the Ambassador incident, Merida," Anna says. "Air traffic stopped, and the funerals of more than a few loved ones were held on the same day. Did you ever stop to wonder that maybe, just _maybe_ , I couldn't make it?"

"Who's 'loved ones' funeral are you referring, your fiancée's?" Merida laughs, loud and scolding. She points to Anna's covered hands. "I've noticed you're not wearing your ring anymore, is she dead? Or did she finally see she was getting married to a two-faced coward?"

Anna's eyes harden, her muscles straining against her hoodie. "She's dead," Anna clips. Tears mist her eyes.

Ariel covers her mouth, empathic pain twisting her features. "You were engaged?" she asks, sending Anna a look of wide-eyed pity. Anna can't manage more than a nod.

"Let me guess," Merida continues, tapping her chin in false thought, "you didn't make it to her funeral either, did you?"

Anna hangs her head, shame twisting her eyebrows.

Merida laughs, long and loud.

"I knew it!" Merida crows. "You're a fucking heartless bitch!"

Anna's features smooth and, with a deep breath, she turns to face the belligerent hero. "You know, Merida," she utters, "just because the fleet fell doesn't mean the world stopped moving. People kept living their lives – civilian, hero, and villain, and tragedies kept on happening. You lost your mom? Well, that's terrible but you know what? You aren't the only one who lost someone important.

"You think you're the only one who plunged into mourning when the ships fell?" Anna asks. "Do you think you're unique because you still hurt? I can name thousands of people in this geographical area alone who are still reeling because of what Arson did that day. You can call yourself a superhero all you'd like, _Archer_ , but you're nothing more than an overgrown child who can't see past their own selfish problems."

"Don't you dare turn this around on me!" Merida roars, spittle flying from her lips. " _You_ are the one who didn't attend anyone's fucking funeral!"

"Yeah," Anna deadpans, "because I could definitely go out in public with red-eyed-Arson on the loose."

The lounge sinks into deafening silence.

Anna cracks a hollow grin at the conflicted expression on Merida's face.

"I have a maintenance shaft I need to attend to," Anna says, turning heel and walking to the other exit of the lounge. "Talk to Calhoun if you need me."

"Wait," Elsa says, scrambling to her feet, "what about THFS?"

"Calhoun can fill you in on regular HFS in the meantime," Anna deflects. "You'll have plenty to catch up on before I need to get involved, I assure." She exits the room.

Elsa throws up her hands. "Fucking great," she utters.

"Hey, you should be thanking me," Merida boasts. "I got her out of your hair."

"No!" Elsa shouts, glaring at Merida in a rare show of rage. "What you did was push away the one person who could maybe, just fucking maybe, help my parents return to normal. You know, just because you lost your mom doesn't mean I have to lose mine!"

"Don't you dare bring my mom into this!" Merida screams.

Elsa scowls. "You know what?" she spits. "When you applied to be a Protector I should have listened to Mulan when she told me to let you rot."

Merida narrows her eyes. "Yeah," she growls. "Maybe you should have." She stomps out of the room.

Ariel hums. "I never did like her," she says, "but I don't think pissing her off was the right move."

"Maybe not," Elsa allows, "but if she turns on the league, I'll kill her myself."


	15. The Heart of the Beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [Waela ](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/5470087/Waela)(FFnet) for beta-ing my work.
> 
> MERRY CHRISTMAS!
> 
> * * *

Three Years Ago

Anna shoulders her way into Scar's office, paying no heed to her dishevelled state or the various stages of drying blood on her uniform.

Scar spares her a courtesy glance, before averting his attention back to his work. "The villains giving you a hard time?" he asks, not that he cares.

"Yeah," Anna grunts, slumping into one of the guest chairs.

"I don't know what else you expected when you let Blizzard own you," Scar says. His eyes flick to Anna, his lip curling. "Do you know how hard it is to get alien blood out of leather?" Anna looks him dead in the eye, wipes blood from her chest, and smears it on the armrest. Scar pinches the bridge of his nose. "What do you want, Arson?" he asks, clipped.

"To wake up and realize this was all a horrible nightmare," Anna replies. Scar's muscles freeze, but he doesn't reply. "But," Anna says, barking a bitter laugh, "since that isn't going to happen, I came because I need a suppressant. I know you analyzed the vial Calhoun gave you during the last Incident."

Scar's head snaps up, his pupils narrowing into pinpricks. "What the fuck?" he hisses. He scans the room, nervous. "How long do you have?"

Anna tilts her head to the ceiling. "A day," she supposes, "but waiting that long would be cutting it close."

Scar growls, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. "How much did you fucking use?" he snarls. "Wait, no. I don't want to hear it, because we fucking _know_ what using hellfire does to you."

Anna glares. "I also know what a violent group of villains does to me," she snaps. "As much as I want to die, I'd rather meet my end after we deal with the monsters who destroyed our lives. Besides," she sighs, "I doubt they'd have given me a swift end, and I dare say I've suffered enough."

Scar hums, grave. "Perhaps," he murmurs, tapping a few buttons on his laptop. He leans back in his chair, sending Anna a sharp, examining gaze. "I feel the need to warn you," he says, "the remedy Calhoun created for you is toxic."

Anna blinks. She wishes she could be surprised, but all she feels is something akin to a punch to a numbed torso. "Toxic in which way?" she asks.

"Toxic in the way that it actually affects your health," Scar chastens, with a scowl. "Yes, _your_ health. This isn't a 'this is dangerous to everyone' sort of deal, it's a 'if anyone else took this they would either die a horrible death, get deathly ill, or become permanently retarded in mind, body, or both.'"

"Oh," Anna airs, absently picking flakes of blood off the back of her gloves. It would explain why she always feels like a sack of shit every time she takes a dose of it.

"'Oh' she says," Scar mocks, his eyes hardening. "The suppressant is _killing_ you," he bites. "It's wearing away at your cells, slowly but surely, until one day your body won't be able to take it anymore and it'll shut down. It won't be graceful, or nice; it will be painful, and agonizing, and you will cry out like you never have before – or at least you'll try, but you won't be able to make a sound.

"Not using your hell abilities isn't just about Red Arson anymore," Scar snarls, a dangerous glint to his mundane teeth. "If you want to stay alive long enough to thwart the Ambassadors, then you have to keep your body from falling apart. I know you love failing horribly in that regard," he says, gesturing to his arms, "but in this case I won't be able to fix you. There isn't a synthetic cure or a less harmful suppressant I can make – trust me, I've been trying. Hell abilities are hard to counteract, and every substance I know of that can has horrific side effects that—like the ability it's suppressing—can't be neutralized without consequences.

"I suppose magic could be the answer," Scar speculates, his eyebrows pinching. "But it would take a heaven healer meta to remedy the materials Calhoun—and I, in turn—are already using, and a meta with purification magic to suppress a hell ability."

Anna's heart sinks into her stomach, the blood rushing from her face. She knows two people who fit those descriptions. While Anna doesn't mind one of them, the other—

_One of the meta's hands tighten around Anna's neck, while they use the other to shove a rag down Anna's throat in rough, gag-inducing thrusts. Anna, her eyes gleaming red and silver, tries to bark a laugh, only to choke on the dry fabric instead._

" _I will make you wish you were never born," the meta snarls, low and dangerous – like a cobra coiling around its prey. Behind her stands another meta, his eyes flashing with malicious intent._

_The female meta turns Anna around and kicks the back of her knees, sending her to the floor. The meta grabs hold of the Anna's hair, hard enough to rip the roots out of her head, and shoves her face into the floor. The supporting floorboards groan in protest, creaking under the stress. If the meta cared less about her home, Anna guesses her face would be dug into splintered marble and wood instead of the intact flooring._

_A foot slams into Anna's side, winding her, and cracking a few ribs. Her arms, tied at an awkward angle high on her back, scream in protest at the violence, and threaten to pop out of their sockets._

_Anna tries retaliating with fire, but the female meta clamps her free hand around the back of Anna's neck, suppressing her meta abilities alongside her hellfire. The fire meta's chest shakes with silent laughter, her red and silver eyes sending a faint, glowing reflection on the marble._

_If the other metas were paying attention, they would have noticed the sliver of teal flicker in and out of Anna's irises. If they were thinking clearly, they would have stopped before they did something they'd later regret._

_The male meta grabs Anna's skin-tight uniform, ripping out the lower back of the fire-retardant material with brutal force. Cold wind rushes the exposed skin, and down Anna's crack; it makes her shiver in all the worst ways. At least, it does to_ Anna; _Red Arson, on the other hand, delights in the dark acts it promises._

 _The male meta places his hand on Anna's lower back, shoving her abdomen into the floor. Black mist hisses from his skin. "In life and in death, I mark your sins," he rumbles, like an old mantra_.

Anna startles, a sharp twinge in her brand forcing her mind back to the present. She crosses her arms over her chest, a feeble gesture to protect herself from the not-so-phantom pain, the memories. "What are the odds of finding a meta with either of those abilities?" she asks.

Scar narrows his eyes, noting the former elite's pale complexion, the cold sweat on her forehead. "Higher than I initially calculated, I presume," he says, pinning Anna with a knowing look.

Anna closes her eyes. The last thing she needs is Scar knowing who _they_ are and having to explain why they _can't_ be an asset; not because they won't help—in fact they probably would, if only to alleviate some of the guilt they bear—but because Anna doesn't want their help. The last time she needed their help they rendered her helpless and—

Anna's stomach turns, bile burning the back of her throat.

"Let's just say not everyone with purification magic is a saint," Anna murmurs.

Scar sighs, his thin patience cracking. "I don't care about your opinions," Scar says, "I need solutions to your problems so I can fix what the old elites and you fucked up. So if you know a meta who fits my parameters, tell me who they are."

Anna's pupils constrict, and she shoots Scar a glower cold enough to freeze over hell. "Don't forget who you're talking to," she snarls.

Scar hesitates, if only for a moment. "We might not see eye-to-eye on a lot of issues," he says, considering his words, "but I thought we had come to the understanding that, in order to enact justice, both of us need to be alive and well."

"Last time I saw the fiend you so desperately want me to tell you about, they mentally and physically tortured me," Anna clips. She flashes an empty, bitter smile behind her mask when Scar's eyes widen. "So yeah," Anna says, "I don't think getting their help is a very smart option."

Scar's gaze falls to his hands, watching them as he taps his fingers on the table. "How long ago was this?" he asks.

"Not long enough to make a difference," Anna growls, her hands balling into fists.

A grate opens high on the far wall, allowing in a drone carrying a vial. Scar takes it, and the drone leaves the same way it came. The mastermind villain stares at the murky liquid in his hand.

Scar sighs, and places the vial on the table between them, but doesn't remove his hand from it. "You can't take many more of these," he warns, soft. Well, as soft as Scar can be; to anyone else it would sound like a rough, grave threat, but Anna knows better.

"How many?" Anna asks, eying the tiny bottle. She does her best to ignore the whispers cackling in her mind, clawing at her skull; the false memories that lurch against her perception of reality.

Scar shrugs, thumbing the twist-on cap. "It depends on how many you've already taken and the state of your body when you did, and the state of your body when you take the next few doses – because you're stupid and we both know you'll need this again at the worst of times," he says, looking Anna in the eye. "So, to be safe, I'd say less than ten from here on out. Well"—he jiggles the vial—"less than nine, after this."

Nine, like a cat, Anna can't help but think. It's a comforting thought, in a morbid sort of way.

Anna stares at the vial. "You're not going to make me drink that, are you?" she asks, as if that matters more than _this shit is killing you_ , and it does.

"Yeah," Scar drones, rolling his eyes, "I'm going to let you drink a corrosive substance instead of applying it straight into your hell-power-infused blood."

Anna sends Scar a flat stare. "Your sarcasm doesn't work considering you actually would," she deadpans.

"Whatever," Scar grumbles, rolling over the vial. Anna picks it up. "Get a sterile needle from one of the labs. Dispose of both it and the vial in the incinerator." He pauses. "Or just do it yourself, I suppose," he considers, "if taking the dose doesn't have you stumbling around like an idiot. Do you want to stay the night, just in case?"

"In this creepy building with you lurking about?" Anna counters. "No thanks. I'd rather not risk waking up to you cutting out my eyeball for some test study or another."

"I already told you I'd replace it with a robotic one," Scar snaps. "God, it's like you don't even listen."

"Bye, Scar," Anna drawls, making sure to slide out of her chair in a way to wipe as much blood as possible on the leather. "As always, I despise working with you."

"The feeling's mutual," Scar replies, but it lacks the malice one would expect. "Give my regards to Hans when you pass him, yeah?"

"I don't want to deal with him today," Anna refuses.

Scar hums. "He's been loitering near the labs ever since you came into the building," he says. "Short of killing him, I doubt he'll let you ignore him."

"Fucking great," Anna mutters, stomping to the door.

"He wants to get in your pants," Scar says, eying Anna's back. "You're so stiff all the time. Maybe you should let him."

"Keep my personal life out of our affairs," Anna snarls, throwing open the door hard enough to slam it against the wall.

"You don't have a personal life," Scar says. "Which is why I'm helping you _make_ one."

"So you can exploit it as a weakness?" Anna snaps, shooting Scar a dark glower. "Never."

"Well you can't say I didn't try," Scar says, turning back to his work. "Go kill some children or something for me."

"Fuck you," Anna growls, stalking out the room and down the hall.

"Fuck Hans!" Scar calls after her. "Maybe then you'll stop waving around that dick you don't have!"

Anna's hand tightens around the vial, anger flaring in her chest. Foreign anger. The corner of Anna's eyes pinch. She can't afford to let emotions rule her when Red Arson is threatening to take over.

Anna takes the stairs to one of the lab floors, one she doesn't often visit, and bursts through the first door she sees. The lab workers startle, their eyes widening at the sight of her.

"Where are your sterile needles?" Anna grunts. One of the employees points to an unlocked cabinet. Anna walks to it and grabs what she needs without saying thanks.

She almost makes it clear of the building without Hans finding her, but he manages to catch up with her on the roof, just as she injects herself with the suppressant. Anna glances at him out of the corner of her eye, gauging his reaction as she pulls the needle out of her neck and burns the objects in her hands to dust.

Hans watches the ashes scatter for a moment, before turning back to Anna. He doesn't say anything.

Anna sighs and uses her fire to take out the cameras and microphones on the roof. "You have a minute before Scar gets eyes or ears back up here," she says. "What do you want?"

Hans' eyes soften, his harsh, douche-y domineer fading away. "I want to know how you're doing," he says, almost too soft to hear. Anna examines him, considering.

Hans was her friend long before her meta powers fully developed, and a few years after she joined the Protectors Hans went undercover in the villainous network to help her out. What he endured and did to get where he is now changed him, but not nearly as much as Anna's experiences changed her.

Anna sighs through her nose and glances out over the city. "Bad, and getting worse," she replies, flat-out honest for the first time in the past year. "How are you, and Kristoff?"

"Worried," Hans answers, without missing a beat. "You stopped talking to us when the ships fell, and the only time I see you is in passing when you come to see Scar," he spits the name. Anna can't blame him – Scar took over Hans' company after the former junior leaguer turned villain. Hans remains the official CEO, but only because Scar doesn't want the publicity – or people knowing where he operates. Hans takes a deep breath, calming himself. "I think Kristoff is giving up on you," he admits.

"I'm surprised he hasn't already," Anna says, even though her heart still constricts at the thought. She gives Hans an odd look. "I'm surprised you haven't either, come to think of it."

Hans shrugs, a small, pleased smile twitching his lips. "Call it blind faith," he says, scratching his sideburns. "I know I'm not the person I portray myself as, so I was hoping the same applied to you."

"It's better if you believe I am the person I pretend to be," Anna says, crossing her arms over her chest. "What happened to me—" her eyes pinch. She tries again. "I might not be a villain, but I'm no hero, either. I'm like—" she pauses. She knows what comparison she _wants_ to make, but the thought of saying she's anything like _him_ is a tough pill to swallow.

Unfortunately, Hans knows how Anna thinks.

"Like Reaper?" Hans guesses.

Anna flinches, her face contorting into an ugly, exaggerated wince. "Yeah," she spits, tightening her crossed arms and leaning back – shying away from a threat that's no longer present. "Like _him_."

Reaper is one of only three ultimate metas ever recorded in the last two centuries. He made himself known sixty years ago and spent the next thirty years sitting pretty as the top dog villain, showing his strength through clashes with the other ultimate of his time, Archangel. During his last years on the meta scene came to light that Reaper and Archangel had been working together all along, making Reaper a hero no one ever knew they had, or needed.

The truth of Reaper and Archangel is much more complicated than that, Anna knows, and not so clean-cut. Reaper was a villain just like Black Dragon was genocidal; people can change, _did_ change, but that doesn't mean their history ceases to exist. Anna made the mistake of believing that once. She won't make it again.

Hans stares for a long couple of seconds—seconds they don't have—considering Anna's tone.

"How do you . . ." Hans frowns, setting his thoughts straight. "I thought Reaper was on his deathbed?"

Anna laughs. "Oh, if only!" she chortles, despite knowing that Reaper _did_ end his career on a morbid note. Sometimes knowing so much screws with Anna's perception of misconceptions and truth; a symptom made worse with the false forty-three years tumbling around in her brain, distinguishable or not. She clears her throat to calm herself. "No," she says, trying again, "the cunt just went into retirement."

"Oh," Hans airs. "Did he help out the league, is that how you know him?" His eyebrows furrow. "Is he an asshole, or something?" he asks. "Is that why you don't like him?"

Anna gives Hans an odd look. "I guess," she replies, tilting her head. She spies a drone clearing the building. Scar has eyes again. "Look, I have hopes and dreams to destroy," Anna says, letting her arms drop from her chest. "So unless you want me to make you choke on your own penis I suggest you fuck off."

Hans smirks, and squares his shoulders, his eyes flashing with cold misogyny. Anna almost applauds the transition. "Come on, babe, it's only dinner at my place," he purrs. "Are you scared you won't be able to keep your pants on around me?"

"No," Anna says, her eyes hardening. "I'm just not in the mood to rip all three of your worthless fucking legs off."

Hans shrugs, his irises glinting with perverted promises. "At least you acknowledge how big it is," he quips, staring down his nose at the fire meta. "Maybe you think it'll break you," he says, rubbing the front of his pants. Anna scoffs. Hans' smirk widens, and he adds, "But feel free to drop by my house anyway if you feel you can handle it."

"Oh, sure, you fucking faggot," Anna drones, an annoyed twitch to her eyebrows. "I'll come by tonight."

"Good," Hans says. He points his hands as guns, clicking his tongue to imitate shots. "Bring condoms."

Anna swings her arm, igniting a deafening explosion in Hans' face – well, close enough to _look_ like she did, at any rate. "Go!" Anna roars, her fingers balling into fists.

Hans laughs, sweeping ambers out of his hair. "Whatever you say, gorgeous," he says, as slick as oil. He turns heel and walks back in the building.

Another drone appears, hovering in front of Anna's face. The meta scowls, glaring into the camera it houses. "Not a fucking word, Scar," she snarls. The drone jiggles up and down, in an imitation of laughter. Anna flips the lens her middle finger, seconds before she blows the drone into pieces. She glowers at one of the other drones. "Don't mess with me, Scar," she warns before, in the blink of an eye, she's gone – leaving a whirlwind of scorched, flying rocks behind her.

In the safety of the sky, Anna thinks about all of Hans' residencies, trying to pin one Scar wouldn't know about. Hans has to have one in order to have made the offer, but the only way Scar wouldn't be aware of— oh.

It's smart. Sneaky and manipulative, but smart. Anna could easily not show up—she's done worse—but she already agreed, and she's nothing if not true to her promises.

"Well," Anna murmurs, changing direction, "at least I'll have time to sleep." She might even wake up before Kristoff gets there which, Anna admits, is a tossup. Either Kristoff will beeline to her location once Hans informs him, or he will outright refuse to go anywhere near it.

At the very least Anna will get a safe roof to sleep under for the night, which is more than enough reason to accept. That and the suppressant is starting to make her systems lag.

So, for the first time in a year, Anna chooses her physical wellbeing over her need to run away from her past; and it honestly scares her more than the threat of Red Arson.

* * *

Present Day

"So who built the base?" Ariel asks, from the hallway below.

"Shut up, Ariel," Anna sighs, staring at the panel she should have been working on for the past half an hour. "Can you please leave me alone?"

Ever since the morning spat between Anna and Merida, Ariel has been following Anna around to all the nooks and crannies the villain had intended to hide in to, 'give her company,' because, 'no one should be alone.' While Anna appreciates the gesture, the water meta had gotten bored staying outside the maintenance and ventilation shafts and started asking rhetorical questions. Anna doubts they were _actually_ rhetorical, but she ignored most of them anyway.

"Nope," Ariel chirps, cheerful enough to make Anna pinch the bridge of her nose. "But wouldn't that be cool, knowing who made this place?" she asks.

"Not really," Anna whispers, too low to hear; because she _does_ know who made the base. She doesn't know much on the specifics, but it was never something that mattered. It's a base made by magic, and it works. Why would she care about anything else?

"I wonder how it's powered," Ariel continues, keeping up her conversation with herself. "Do you know, Anna? Do we create our own power or are we on the grid of a nearby country?"

"Off grid, obviously," Anna answers, exasperated. She can't even begin to count how many different ways being dependant on an outside source for power would screw over the league.

"Okay," Ariel says, excitement lifting her tone. Maybe she's the one who's lonely. "In that case, _how_ do we make our power? Is it hydro?"

Anna hesitates. She asked a similar question when she first joined the league, but was never afforded a straight answer; not because Jen and James didn't trust her, but because they didn't know themselves. All three of them had assumed hydro power, like Ariel, but examination of the base revealed that, while a hydro source does exist, it doesn't always make all the power the base uses. Yet despite these frequent deficit power dips, the power has never been limited; the lights have never flickered; non-life-support systems have never been shut down to conserve energy.

"Of course it is," Anna half-lies, her eyebrows furrowing. "Over ninety percent of the base is underwater, why _wouldn't_ it be hydro?"

"Well I don't know," Ariel hums, in good spirits despite Anna's poor attitude. "There are a lot of strange architects out there; there's no telling what they could have thought was a good or bad idea."

"That I can agree with," Anna airs, picking dust bunnies off her baggy jeans. "Jesus, Calhoun, do you not clean?" she mutters, but doesn't expect a response. Unlike Ariel.

"Hello?" Ariel calls. "Are you okay in there? Should I come help you?"

Anna sighs. "I'm fine," she says, "I'm just busy. Why don't you entertain someone else? I'm afraid you're not doing me much good."

Ariel chortles, soft and well-natured. "I'm not sure about that," she teases. "I've found one of the best cures for when something goes awry is to know you have someone to lean on. Being by yourself is dangerous – it isolates you and your opinions and it's just . . . unpleasant. So no, I won't leave you when I know you're hurting."

That, out of everything the marine meta-alien has spouted over the past hour, is the only thing that makes Anna pause. Not because of the intentions towards her—she would never accept such a gesture, anyway—but because of Ariel's tone of voice.

Closing her eyes, Anna takes a moment to think back, remembering the file the old elites and her had on Ariel.

Ariel was an elite royal guard on the water planet Trideum. With her meta powers, she was well on her way to becoming a personal guard to the future heir of the throne. She was a kind person with high optimism, and a strong urge to serve the greater good. Athena and Anna had planned an expedition to recruit Ariel a couple months before the Ambassador incident, but the trip was delayed when the Ambassador fleet entered the Sol system.

It was for the best, in retrospect. If Anna had gone on alone and Ariel jumped aboard, the poor meta-alien would be as dead as the old elites or as scarred as the new league.

Or maybe not, Anna amends, blinking her eyes back open. If Ariel's tone of voice is anything to go by, her life hasn't been peaches and roses even without Arson's interference.

"Can you come up here for a moment, Ariel?" Anna asks. "I need your help with something." She stares at the still-closed electronic access panel across from her. Ariel is sure to notice the lack of anything getting done, but that's fine; Anna only wants the marine meta in the maintenance shaft with her because it'll be harder to run away.

"Okay!" Ariel blurts, excitement trembling her words like someone on one too many energy drinks. "Just give me—" she grunts, cutting herself off as she struggles into the open hatch in the hallway, and climbs her way up. "Oh damn it's dusty in here," she coughs.

Despite herself, Anna laughs. It isn't loud or boisterous, but it lifts some of the weight on her chest. "I don't sport this filth for shits and giggles," she teases, with a smile on her face. "What do you think I do, roll in a random pile of dust every time I exit one of these things?"

"Well I don't know, maybe," Ariel chortles, popping her head over the floor by Anna's butt. She shakes her head, sending dust flying around her.

"Jesus!" Anna exclaims, throwing her arm over her mouth. "I asked you up here to help me, not kill me!"

"'Help' might not be the word you're looking for," Ariel giggles, right by Anna's head. A moment later a soft, tranquil kiss presses into Anna's temple. Anna freezes, unsure of how to react. Ariel hums, pulling away and leaning against the shaft wall opposite Anna. With a kind smile, Ariel taps the access hatch beside her with a knuckle. "From the lack of work going on, I'm assuming you only came up here to get away from everyone," she says.

Anna glances at the hatch. "You wouldn't be wrong," she relents, even if the meta-alien isn't exactly right, either. Anna does have business with all the panels she's been visiting, it's just a matter of lacking the motivation to do any of it.

Ariel's smile widens, making her eyes crinkle in a way that makes her eyes sparkle in the dull light. "So what made you change your mind to get little 'ol me up here with you?" she asks.

The villain rubs her jaw, her gaze flicking aside. It's been a while since she's dealt with other people's emotional issues with the intent of helping, instead of being an outright dick. "Not much changed on my end, to be honest," Anna replies, slow, "but something in you . . ." She stops here, sending Ariel a look. "Let's try this again," she suggests, with a small, half-mouth smile. It fades as quickly as it came. "I've been isolated and alone for a long time, mainly by my own choice.

"That is to say," Anna continues, "people have tried reaching out to me, at some point in time or another. Sometimes I accepted the tentative hand, other times I didn't. Either way I chose solitude in the end and yeah, that's sad, but at least I had the option of support if I wanted it. You, on the other hand . . ." She frowns, organizing her thoughts. "I'm familiar with Trideum culture," she says. Ariel's muscles jump, her eyes widening. Anna twitches a tiny, reassuring smile, and continues with, "And, because of what little I know, and what little I've seen, and from what little I've heard from you, I've realized that you're _not_ getting the type of support you need."

Ariel shifts, her gaze flicking away and her knees coming up to her chest. Anna's eyes soften and she leans forward, laying a warm hand on Ariel's shin.

"It must be terrible," Anna whispers, "being surrounded by friends who ignore what you need because they think how they're there for you already is enough."

Tears mist Ariel's eyes, and her chest hiccups. She swallows, her throat bobbing with the harsh motion. "I-it's okay," she stutters, breaking Anna's heart. "I-I never actually told any of them w-what my culture was like." She wipes at her eyes and adds, under her breath, "Or where I came from."

Anna squeezes Ariel's shin, her chest constricting at the pain etched in the marine meta's face. "You never told them because you felt they wouldn't accept it," Anna reassures. She chokes a forced laugh, waving at the access shaft. "I've been dealing with them for a week, and even I can see they're obsessed with their failures and trying to find ways to overcome them. They can't see past what this villain did, or what that villain did, and especially not what Arson did because _God forbid_ anyone isn't aware how fucking horrible she is for two goddamn seconds.

"But _you_ , Ariel, are different," Anna says, rubbing her thumb in soothing circles. "You haven't let the punches you've received mold you into a deformed clay pot; because you _know_ that damage doesn't have to show to be valid, and that damage shouldn't stop you from being the type of pot you want to be. You want to _mean_ something and be _useful_ instead of sit in a museum because that's all a misshapen pot is good for.

"My point, in the mess of all this," Anna says, almost laughing at her odd explanation; a trait reminiscent of who she used to be, "is that you knew the others wouldn't accept who you are, so you kept it to yourself. It comes out whether you like it to or not sometimes and I've seen it doesn't have the best reception, and I am so, _so_ sorry I treated you the same way." Her voice cracks without her will, and she grits her teeth. "Being isolated is a horrible feeling," she says, her vocal cords warbling with the effort to stay strong, "and from now on, I want to be there for you."

The villain winces at her own promise; one she can't afford to make. "Or, at least, I'll try," Anna amends, with a regretful smile. "I have issues of my own I have to deal with, and I'm afraid they're not ones you can help me with." Her eyes darken. "They're not ones anyone can help me with, I don't think."

Ariel stares, her eyes shining with elation and unshed tears. She leans forward, then stops – doubt edging into her features. "May I?" she asks, her pleading eyes staring into Anna's.

An uncomfortable swirl of emotions combine in Anna's gut, and her mind screams at her to say no – to shy away from intimacy, but she forces herself to smile; because this isn't about her. This isn't about the pain she's gone through or the pain she's bound to go through – this is about making someone else feel welcome in a way she can never be. Her and Ariel are both lost souls, and Anna will be damned if she forces them both to suffer that fate.

"No one deserves to be lonely," Anna whispers. "So yes, you may."

Ariel's breath stutters out of her chest like the urge to laugh and cry got mixed into one, and she surges forward. Anna jumps, expecting the harsh pain of impact, but instead all she feels is Ariel's soft lips on hers – gentle and content.

Trideum, as Anna's limited knowledge goes, is a very intimate species. They need physical contact with friends or family because it helps them feel loved and appreciated. With close friends, that intimacy can include sexual activities – possibly even staying as such after one or both friends have found a mate.

Anna admits she's not okay with that possible extra step, but the kissing and the cuddling? She'll . . . well, she'll find a way to make peace with it, somehow. Not because they're not enjoyable activities, they are, but they're a comfort Anna isn't sure she deserves to have.

Ariel kisses the corner of Anna's mouth, her lips upturned into a smile. "You smell like metal and dirt," she teases.

Anna blinks, and airs a surprised laugh. "I don't know what you expected," she chuckles, "I've been crawling around in these ducts all day."

Ariel giggles and lays down—contorting her lower half to fit in the limited space—between Anna's legs, using the villain's thigh as a pillow. Ariel huffs, blowing the nearby dust on Anna's jeans away from her nose. Anna smiles, resting a hand on the hero's shoulder.

"You know," Anna says, her voice soft, "this isn't the best place to fall asleep."

Ariel chuckles, the gentle vibrations lulling Anna into a strange state of security. "This isn't the best place to hide away from your problems under the pretense of working, either," Ariel rebuttals.

Anna snorts, a rare sincere smile pulling at her lips. "For your information I did have work I needed to do," she says. "Just, when I got up here, I couldn't get my mind to focus on anything. So I sat up here like the little emo child I am, wishing you'd leave me alone so I could wallow in my misery in peace."

Ariel hums. "I get that," she says. "Whenever it gets too much for me I go into the ocean for a couple days, or a week. The league always thinks I'm visiting family, but in reality . . ." she trails off.

 _There's no sentient life in Earth's ocean_ , Anna thinks, finishing Ariel's sentence. At least nothing that could be considered anything other than an animal.

Then, Anna remembers something. She frowns. "When Jane first brought me to the base, were you coming back from a mission or an ocean trip?" she asks.

Ariel stiffens. "The ocean," she answers, after a hesitation.

"Yeah," Anna murmurs, "that's what I thought." She places her other hand on Ariel's head, running her fingers through her hair in reassuring motions. "But you did well," she says. "You went from having everything to nothing, and you still lasted two years."

"I'm surprised," Ariel admits. "I thought about making it all stop so many times."

Anna's fingers hesitate, before she forces them to continue. "What made you decide not to?" she asks.

"The need to make things right, I guess," Ariel supposes. "I came to Earth after a lot of the things with Arson went down, so it's harder for me to truly understand the severity of what she's done, but I still get that she needs to be— well, I'm not quite sure."

Anna frowns. "What do you mean?" she asks. "The death penalty is a widely accepted punishment at this point, even amongst the villains."

"It's just—" Ariel pauses and rolls over, staring at the metal ceiling of the duct. "People don't just change," she says. "Or if they do it's because they were forced to, like with THFS – but even you admitted that it didn't really change what made Arson a hero. When I first got into the league and heard the stories of what she'd done, I looked up every available piece of information involving her before and after the first Incident, and do you know what I found?"

Anna doesn't answer, her heart hammering in her throat.

"Unless Arson's eyes are red and silver," Ariel continues, undeterred by the lack of response, "Arson hasn't really changed. Sure she's not the same person that she used to be, I'm not denying that, but she's not the monster everyone thinks she is, either."

"That's . . . an unpopular opinion," Anna utters.

Ariel smiles. "I'm aware," she says. She glances to Anna. "But you're not biting my head off about it."

"There's not really a point to it, is there?" Anna deflects. "Everyone else in the league is so ready to rip off Arson's head they can't see that they might very well need her against the Ambassadors. So I figure as long as you're still aware of how dangerous she is, and it sounds like you are, then there's nothing wrong with your opinion."

Ariel's smile widens. "I thought you hated her," she says.

"I do," Anna says, and she means it, "but I also know that you sometimes need to work with people you hate." She winces. "It doesn't mean the experience isn't agonising, but if you need them you need them, ya know?"

"Not really," Ariel admits. "It's hard to work with someone you hate if you've never actually hated anybody."

Anna laughs. "Must be nice," she says, her chest tightening. She remembers not hating anybody, either. Now she has a small list of people she doesn't.

A comfortable silence falls between them.

After a minute, Ariel's face contorts and she says, "I want to talk to you about something, but I don't want you to freak out."

Anna quirks an eyebrow. "I can't promise anything when I don't know what you're talking about," she says, "but I'll try to be reasonable. Is that good enough?"

Ariel stares straight up, a thoughtful look on her features. "I know this might sound obvious," she says, "but sometimes good people do bad things." She twitches a remorseful smile. "Sometimes being a good guy means tainting your reputation beyond recompense, but that doesn't stop someone from being a good person or doing good things, it just makes them a victim of circumstance."

Anna's muscles freeze. She swallows the lump in her throat. "What did you do, to get kicked off Trideum?" she asks, praying Ariel is talking about herself.

Ariel winces. "I wasn't 'kicked off,'" she says. "It's more like I fled after—" she cringes. "Let's just say I had to deal with a threat only a select few people knew about," she explains. "When I landed on Earth no one knew what I had done, sans Calhoun, and it allowed me to continue being the person I am without scrutiny. If I continued being myself on Trideum it would all be taken with a grain of salt, as if everyone was waiting for the next ball to drop. I think the same applies to you."

Anna forces a smile. "I don't think Merida is a good example about how people treat me," she says.

The hero shakes her head. "I don't mean you as Anna, I mean you as Arson," she says. Anna's heart drops.

A cold sweat forms over Anna's skin, her heart rate doubles, and anxiety claws at her brain like an infestation. "I don't know what you're talking about," she croaks. Her throat feels like sandpaper.

"Like I said – people don't really change," Ariel dismisses. "I had analyzed who Arson was before and after the first Incident, and I wasn't blinded by first-hand experience so I guess it was easier for me to put the clues together." Then, with a sheepish smile, she admits, "I might have also tried to burn your fingers with a lighter when you weren't paying attention to confirm my suspicions."

Anna pinches the bridge of her nose, her fingers shaking with unspent adrenaline. "I can't really say I'm surprised," she says, forcing herself not to spit the words. Her gaze flickers aside. "It would explain why you kept referring to me as a meta, though."

Ariel lifts her arm, using her hand on Anna's jaw to coax the villain into looking at her. "You're not going to hurt me for figuring it out, are you?" she asks, a tinge of fear edging into her irises.

Anna's features soften. "No, of course not," she says, laying an arm over Ariel's abdomen. "I need to get around to telling everyone in the league about it, anyway. I just didn't want to right away, for obvious reasons."

Ariel relaxes, a soft smile gracing her lips. "Some leaguers already know though, don't they?" she asks.

The villain snorts a laugh. "Is it that obvious?" she questions.

"Well," Ariel laughs, "Belle and Punz aren't known for outright glaring at people for no known reason." Her features sober. "Belle is really harsh on you."

Anna shrugs. "Yeah," she agrees, "but I can't blame her for it."

"I can," Ariel says, almost sounding happy about it. "I mean, I know you – well, as well as I can with how secretive you are, but I know you, and you obviously regret what you've done because, as you've told us, all those horrible things weren't done by you. Well, they were but they weren't." Her lips purse. "The Ambassadors screwed up a lot of things, didn't they?"

"You have no idea," Anna murmurs, her eyes pinching.

Ariel stares at Anna for a long couple of moments, then she pushes herself to an elbow and kisses the underside of Anna's jaw. "It's okay," the hero murmurs. "I'm here for you."

Tears spring to Anna's eyes unbidden, and she has to bite her tongue to keep from sobbing. "Thank you," she strains and, despite everything, she means it.


	16. Hate is a Strong Word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****
> 
> **A/N** : Thanks again to my beta, [Waela ](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/5470087/Waela)(FFnet).
> 
>  _I edited a piece of Anna's timeline in Chapter 7_ – her dating and engagement years with Jennifer; now they were dating for four years, and they were engaged for one. If there are any discrepancies regarding this in any other chapter please let me know, and I'll deal with it. I would also like to take this time to apologise for continuity errors – I know they're there, but I haven't found the time to do a proper sweep to get rid of them.
> 
> * * *

Eight Years Ago 

Belle's breath stutters in and out of her lungs. She bites her tongue to prevent herself from whimpering as her apartment building shudders and quakes. The part of her brain not terrified screams at her to run, but she had watched the monster from the window long enough to realize it wouldn't do her much good. While blind, the beast operates on sound; attacking anything that moves, or utters a sound.

'An isolated attack' the radio had said, before Belle had turned it off. She follows the news enough to know 'isolated attack' is slang for one of two things – the police force not wanting the public to know the scope of the danger, or a government experiment gone wrong. Neither option bodes well for her.

Belle clamps a hand over her mouth, tears leaking from her eyes. As smart as she is, nothing can prevent the fear curling in her gut, her urge to cry out for her mom. She hasn't felt the desperate need for her parents since she was a child, but she frantically wishes they were here for her now.

And they _should_ be home to help her through this, Belle realises, glancing at the wall clock. Her fingers tighten on her cheeks, her jaw, helping her throat hold back the wail of despair threatening to come loose. Are they dea—

 _No_ , Belle thinks – not in denial of the possibility, but to deny herself the time to think about it. Right now, that could cost her her life.

So, what are her options? Belle looks around. She's too young and not near as strong as she'd need to be to risk engaging the beast or the trample of panicking humans, nor can she think of anything in her home that is in her expertise to utilize, save the computer. But what could Belle do that trained professionals aren't already doing?

 _Well_ , Belle thinks, pushing herself off the floor, _it's better than waiting_.

So the teenager tiptoes over to the computer, all but holding her breath as she turns on the screen. She bites her tongue as she types in the password, trying to convince herself that the tapping of keys is nowhere near enough sound to draw the beast's attention with the ruckus going on.

Blocking out her surroundings, Belle searches for answers and solutions. Only, common threads are a jumbled mess and news clippings are filled with the noise of reporters who don't know what they're talking about. Belle bites her thumb, thinking. Her intelligence is nowhere near fantastical, or at least not high enough to break into one of her nation's many security networks, and the Protectors? Well, there's hardly a point trying to contact them.

Athena and Hades are universe-wide peacekeepers who have little time to deal with anything other than the 'big bad wolves' scattered across the galaxies. While the two heroes have been spotted on Earth a handful of times throughout the years, the duo has shown the planet no favouritism over others, which means contacting them over _this_ is out of the question.

_Boom!_

Belle grips the desk, her teeth clattering from the shockwave of force. She turns to the shuttered window. That isn't a sound the beast could make or create, is it?

With a gulp of breath for courage, Belle walks to the window and peeks through the blinds. What she sees has her screaming and leaping aside.

Glass and brick shatters inwards, littering every surface of Belle's home. A figure clad in a red and white skin-tight suit smashes into her ceiling and crashes to the floor, limp.

So much for staying under the radar. Belle clamps both her hands over her mouth, both feeling and hearing the beast climb up her building. If she's still enough, quiet enough, will it overlook her?

The figure on the floor groans, swaying as she pushes herself to a knee. "'I'll only be gone for a week,' she says," the figure mocks, raising her head with a wince. "'So don't go getting yourself killed,' she says. Yeah, sure," the woman grunts, her teal eyes flashing with pain, "because I'm totally the type of person who listens."

The woman blinks, noticing Belle for the first time; and her bright, honest eyes widen in terror.

"Oh _shit_ ," the woman hisses, her head snapping to the gaping hole. Her fingers tremble, but she clenches them into fists to make it less noticeable.

Belle can't help but note that the woman doesn't look much older than herself—a couple years at most—and her heart clenches. What good can a teenager like herself do against a hulking monster?

"Athena protect me," the woman whispers, like a prayer, before her upper body is engulfed in flame and she's bolting towards the hole. She ducks her shoulders and tackles the beast in the face just as it emerges over the broken bricks.

The beast screams and flails, trying to extinguish it's flaming fur, and tumbling towards the street below in result.

"Let's take you down a peg!" the woman—a fire meta, Belle realizes—bellows, her voice fading as she falls with the beast.

Belle scrambles to the opening just as the beast connects with the asphalt, the fire meta hovering above it in a disjointed flail, as if something didn't quite go as planned.

"Fuck!" the meta cries, crash landing on an already trashed vehicle.

On her back, facing the sky, the meta turns her head. Even with the distance between them, Belle somehow _knows_ that the meta is looking at her, and it's as if something switches within the hero wanna-be. With a shout, the meta is on her feet and punching fireballs at the hulking monster—who looks like a deranged minotaur with fur—as the thing regains its own footing. Belle blinks at the change; at the discipline and control the teen meta showed no hints of before.

The battle rages for what feels like hours before the meta grabs the beast's head and, with the force of fire aiding her, snaps its neck. The meta staggers away, clutching her ribcage as she watches the beast fall. When she determines the thing isn't going to get back up, she glances back to Belle – her posture straightening when she realizes the younger teen is still watching.

Belle grins and, in a fit of insanity, she cheers. And leaps out of the goddamn building.

The meta's eyes bulge, but she reacts in the same moment; her fire lifting a slag of asphalt and making it catch the falling teen – having it follow Belle's momentum and breaking speed upon contact. When the slab touches the ground, the meta—her damaged uniform littered with blood, both hers and not—storms over.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" the meta demands. She points to the dead monster. "I did _not_ go through the effort of saving you from that thing just so you can dive to your doom!" Belle just blinks. The meta stomps her foot, fumes wafting around her neck and puffing out from underneath her cloth mask. "Are you even listening to me?" she shouts.

Belle can honestly say that no, she was not. "What your name?" she asks. She's sure the gravity of what happened, of what she just did, will hit her later, but for right now she'll deal with her brain's dysfunctional order-of-importance.

"Are you f—" the meta sucks in a deep breath and closes her eyes. Ten seconds later—was she counting?—the meta replies, "Arson." She opens her eyes and, though the fury is still there, it has simmered into something manageable. "My name is Arson."

"Where are you from?" Belle asks, noting Arson's foreign accent.

Arson's eyebrows furrow, concern replacing her rage. "Not . . . here, look are you okay?" she asks, crouching.

"America?" Belle guesses, trying to pinpoint it herself. If her emotions weren't numb with shock, she's sure she'd be questioning her own sanity.

"What? No. Well, kind— listen, kid," Arson says, tripping over her own words, "did you—"

"If I'm a kid, doesn't that make you one, too?" Belle interrupts, her head tilting.

"Uuh," Arson airs, the utterance sounding on her breath for a long couple of seconds before her brain can compile a coherent sentence. "Did you, maybe, hit your head?" Arson asks, her eyebrows furrowing once more. She reaches out to check, perhaps, but one look at her bloodied hand has her fingers pressed against her thigh in a tight fist. "I'll go check on the status of the emergency response teams," she says, a stiffness to her words. "Give me a moment."

Arson stands and walks away, tapping something in her ear. She speaks and waits for a response, but her words sound like murmurs.

In boredom-born curiosity, Belle makes her way over to the beast. With the fear she should feel being suppressed, she walks right up to the beast's gigantic head, its spine protruding out the back of its neck, and kneels adjacent to the thing's open maw. Its teeth are covered in a brownish-black liquid – the colour of its blood, if the beast's other wounds are anything to go by. Belle reaches out to touch one of the canines, only to snap back her hand with a hiss. She glances at her finger, the beast's blood mixing with the dirt on her finger. She wipes it off on her shirt, making a note to disinfect the wound later.

As Belle stands she notices the brown wetness on the knees of her pants and, with a frown, notes that she should probably burn her clothes and disinfect her whole body. Who knows what chemicals are in that beast's blood.

Oh. _Now_ Belle's logic center is kicking back in.

"Hey! Get away from that thing!" Arson snaps, landing on the other side of the beast and glaring at the younger teenager. "Well? Get!"

Belle raises an eyebrow. Wouldn't it have just been easier to grab her by the shirt and yank her away from the dead monster? Belle obeys nonetheless, and Arson's shoulders slump in relief.

"Thank you," Arson says, hopping over the beast with the aid of her flames. "Everyone is either on their way or on the outskirts of the damaged areas working their way in," she explains, reverting to the previous conversation. She keeps talking, but Belle tilts her head, noticing that Arson's arms sport less than half of the blood they used to.

"Arson!" a new, panicked voice shouts.

Arson turns and Belle follows suit, just in time to see the closing of a hell gate. Hades looks around with pinched eyes; his glowing green irises the only part of his face aside the black metal band worn on his forehead that aren't shrouded in black mist.

Belle's heart jumps in her throat at being so close to a walking legend.

"What the hell did you do?" Hades barks, his eyes zeroing in on Arson. "What did you not understand about, 'don't be a fucking idiot?'"

Arson crosses her arms over her chests, her eyebrows falling into an unamused line. "Probably the part about that never being said," she drawls.

"It was implied," Hades snaps, narrowing his eyes. "We thought you could obey a simple instruction without having to supply you with a list of fine print, but obviously we were wrong."

Arson bristles. "Are you _kidding_ me?" she exclaims. "As much as I love you two, you and Athena are off gallivanting in other galaxies more than you are in this one and you know what? Earth _needed_ someone and _I_ was the only one here. Isn't that why you recruited me in the first place, to be a permanent station on Earth while you and Athena run after farts in the wind?"

"N— yes," Hades stutters, his voice harsh, "but you're not ready for this yet, we agreed—"

"Yeah, we agreed," Arson growls, slapping a hand to her chest, "because I _know_ I'm not as prepared as I need or want to be, but that doesn't matter." She gestures to the beast. "That thing didn't sit around waiting for me to be good enough, did it? So who else is going to? I'll answer for you; no one!" Her fingers twitch against her uniform, tears misting her eyes. "I'm not saying that I want to jump into this messy world of yours head first and I'm not saying I'm not frightened, because I don't and I am; all I'm saying is that if Earth needs me, I'm going to be there to help; because with you and Athena chasing ghosts, who else do they have?"

Hades stares. Then he sighs, running his fingers through what Belle assumes is his hair. "Yeah," he mutters, "I guess you're right. I don't like it, though, and neither will Athena."

"Maybe you two should have thought of that before you decided to leave me to my own devices for the better part of a year," Arson says, an acidity to her humoured tone. This is an old argument, Belle realizes; one that's been happening for a _while_.

Hades winces. "Not here," he says, stiff. He holds out his hand. "Let's go back to base."

Arson hesitates. "I, uh . . ." she raises a hand and wiggles her fingers. "Sorry," she murmurs, rubbing her hands together in an anxious motion.

Hades' eyes soften. "No, I'm sorry. I should have realized," he says, waving his arms around him, "you know, considering."

Arson raises an eyebrow. "Considering I fought a huge beast all by myself?" she wagers.

"Yeah, that," Hades confirms, a grin in his eyes. "We can scout around and help until you're good to go, and then I'll gate us home, okay?"

"Are you sure it wouldn't break your code of fart chasing?" Arson asks, giggling when Hades glares at her. "Okay, fine, yes – I would like that, thank you," she agrees, preparing to take flight.

"Uh, wait!" Belle croaks, her throat clamping when both metas turn her way. "If, uh, if I may – if I heard you right, are the Protectors adding to their ranks?"

The corner of Arson's eyes crinkling in amusement. "It's only me at the moment, but yeah; I think they're planning on adding more," she says, and laughs. "I doubt they'd leave me the sole Protector of the Sol system, after all. And if they did, _I_ would add more." When Hades sends her a look, Arson shoots one right back. "What?" she challenges. "Even if I was capable of such a feat, do you honestly see me trampling about on my own like, 'Oh ho ho! I'm a Protector, I don't need friends! My reflection keeps me company because I'm so beau—' Ow!" Arson yelps, slapping a black mist away from her arm. "Jeez, I'm sorry, ya touchie emo," the meta mutters, under her breath.

Hades rolls his eyes and turns to Belle. "To give you a better answer, Athena and I will be holding a press conference later this month to explain shifts in the Protector ranks and level of attentiveness to the Milky Way galaxy. So keep an eye out."

"You are?" Arson asks, surprise flashing in her eyes. "I mean, yeah, of course," she corrects, trying to mask her own confusion.

Hades steps beside Arson, presenting her like a prized possession. "Arson here is a junior leaguer"—Arson's eyes light in amusement Belle doesn't understand—"but don't tell anyone just yet, okay?" Hades says, holding a finger in a 'shh'ing motion. "It's a surprise." His mist slaps Arson upside the head, and the fire meta lets out a squawk. "Sorry, shit-brain," Hades apologies, a mischievous glint to his eyes, "you smell funny; and you know how I react when I catch a whiff of stink."

Arson grumbles something under her breath, before waving to Belle. "Don't go leaping off anymore buildings," she says, and rushes off a burst of flame.

Hades laughs, opening a hell gate behind him. "Chow," he says, before stepping into the portal.

For a long couple of minutes, Belle just stares at open air, trying to process the fact that she just met _Hades_ , the _Protector of the Realms_.

Then, when the excitement begins to recede, Belle notices a tingling in her blood. She glances at her hands, frowning.

Maybe she should find a paramedic, figure out if Arson was right thinking something was wrong with her.

 _Or_ , Belle thinks, looking back at her broken apartment building, _maybe I should find my parents_.

* * *

Present Day 

Belle twirls a pen around her fingers, waiting for the rest of the league members on site to arrive.

Unsurprisingly, Elsa and Mulan were among the people already present when Belle arrived. What _was_ shocking was that Anna—sporting dust from head to toe—showed up before even half leaguers at base were present.

Belle glances at the villain-in-disguise, chatting with a just as dusty Ariel. Belle can't claim to be surprised by the marine alien's upheaval—she was probably chasing Anna through the vents—but she _is_ taken aback by Anna's change of behaviour. Just yesterday Anna was avoiding Ariel like the plague, and now she's striking up conversation like it's the most natural thing in the world. Belle narrows her eyes, untrusting.

"Can we get on with it?" Elsa asks, shifting in her seat. "We can fill in Merida later, when the Berk-bound team gets back."

Anna lifts her head, blinking at the people around her as if she forgot they were there. "Sure," she agrees, standing. She twitches a grin. "If we're going on without her, though, we'd better lock the door. Between her insulting me and raging at you lot for not waiting, I doubt we'd get anything done."

"We wouldn't be in a better position if we do," Mulan retorts, "because she'd start blowing up our shit in protest."

"Good point," Anna hums. "Calhoun," she says, louder, "do you have any sleeping gas?"

"I have enough for what you're suggesting," Calhoun confirms, "but I will need a restock of supplies if you want any more than that."

Anna goes to nod, then hesitates. Her eyebrows furrow. "Uh, Calhoun," she says, uncertain, "have your stockpiles been added to at all in the past four years?"

"Negative," Calhoun replies. "The last addition to my stores was by Athena one month before the first Incident."

Anna pinches the bridge of her nose. "Right," she strains. "Better question – are the current leaguers aware you _have_ a personal store room?"

"To a point," Calhoun defends, "The leaguers who know are Mulan, Shang and Jane – and the last time any of them asked about the state of my supplies was two years ago."

Anna waves her free hand in an agitated motion. "And you didn't think to tell anyone else?" she asks.

"I am nowhere near critical levels in any one thing," Calhoun defends, "and the few things I _am_ out of are found off world. Trust me, if you hadn't of come back I would have brought up the issue eventually. It's just . . ." she pauses, then sighs. "The new league has different priorities than the old elites did, and my supply train isn't one of them."

Anna's features pinch. "I see," she murmurs, with a face Belle has come to recognise as 'what the fuck has the league come to,' and it ignites an ire in her chest so powerful she has to bite her tongue to keep from screaming. The league is only like this because Anna killed the old elites, influenced or not, and then abandoned everything she ever stood for.

The door bursts open, drawing the room's attention.

Merida, seeing Anna standing at the front of the head of the table, slams the door shut behind her and points an accusatory finger. "How _dare_ you!" she snarls.

"Oh good, you're here," Anna says, managing to hide her irritation better than the rest of the leaguers. "Now we can start."

Merida swings her arm, a half second away from a temper tantrum, when Anna's words register in her brain. The bow wielder blinks. "You haven't started yet?" she asks.

Anna raises an eyebrow. "There wouldn't have been much of a point if I did," she replies, gesturing to the chair next to Megara. "If you'd take a seat."

Merida scowls, her foul attitude returning. "No thanks," she says, her lip curling in distaste as she crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the door.

"Okay," Anna accepts without pause, irritating Merida further. Anna turns her attention to the rest of the table. "How much research have you all done since I informed you of the situation?"

"HFS is a natural toxin found in Hell," Elsa answers, her fingers drumming a quiet, uneasy melody on the table. "It's produced as a visible blue smoke when something is on fire, or as an invisible vapor made from decay or volatile substances; although the latter form is more of a flammable gas that, while still toxic, doesn't hold near as many qualities as HFS until it's ignited and turned into smoke."

Anna quirks a small, impressed smile. "You were able to get Calhoun to disclose locked information, I'm impressed," she praises, and it puts a sickening knot in Belle's gut.

Elsa nods. "Apparently the situation coupled with my emotional distress fell under one of her divulge-of-information clauses," she says, managing a weak smile of her own. It doesn't last long. "Is it possible for the Ambassadors to go into Hell and collect HFS?"

Anna snorts. "They'd have better luck trying to negotiate with Arson to get her to stop thwarting them," she says. When the techie notices Elsa isn't relieved, Anna sighs and adds, "There are several ways to get into Hell, but none of them are very helpful to someone who isn't immune to the effects of the portal and Hell itself. Even if someone _could_ go through all that effort, HF and HFS when produced in Hell is a different story then when Arson produces them. HF—"

"Okay, enough with the acronyms," Megara says, rubbing her temples. "Can you _please_ just tell us what all this means, without the secrecy? It would make it so much easier to figure out what you're talking about."

Anna hesitates at first, but after a second of debate she nods and says, "Respectively, HF, HFS and THFS mean hellfire, hellfire smoke and tainted hellfire smoke."

Megara stiffens, her eyes widening a fraction. "That, uh," she utters, with a frown, "that explains a lot."

Merida cackles. "So that settles it!" she laughs. "The powers of Hell corrupted Arson and she turned on her own friends!"

Anna levels Merida with a dark glower. "It was not her use or holding of hell abilities that turned Arson into a villain," she snaps. "It was the Ambassador's twisting one of those abilities—"

"Isn't it the same thing?" Merida asks, with an oily grin.

Ire sparks in Anna's eyes, but she grits her teeth and keeps her tone as even as she can manage. "Sure, whatever you say," she clips, before ignoring Merida once again. "What I was saying is that hellfire and hellfire smoke are different when they're actually produced in Hell," Anna continues. "The obvious discrepancy is the colour, but other than that, I guess you could say they're less reactive. That, and neither was meant to be able to survive without the atmosphere of Hell to give it structure.

"In other words," Anna says, "Arson's body is a living environment that's built to both withstand and create hellfire and hellfire smoke; the abilities are in her bones, her blood, her cells. While hellfire smoke produced by Arson can survive the world outside of Hell and be contained in neat little bottle arrangements, hellfire can only be produced and sustained by the intact host."

"Intact?" Belle asks, her interest perking.

Anna nods. "Hellfire needs constant sustenance because it's always burning," she says. "Arson's cells have to create extra energy for the hellfire to burn all the time so that it won't eat her alive. So if someone tried to take a sample of Arson's person; a finger, for example, the hellfire would eat away at the remaining energy in that digit until it peters out. What makes it worse is that, by being outside of Hell, HF and HFS are . . . well, not what they're supposed to be." Her features contort. "There's no real way to explain it," she says, her fingers running small patterns on the palms of her hands. "It's just . . . HF and HFS created outside of Hell are dangerous; far more than they rightly should be, yet they're not all that different in essence.

"I know I'm screwing up this explanation," Anna admits, running her fingers through her bangs, "but I can't— there's no way—" She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

"Ability-like substances native to Hell can only survive in Hell and Hell abilities not native to Hell are more hazardous than they should be," Mulan supplies, with a small smile. "Sound about right?"

Some of the tension in Anna's shoulders ebb away. "In a nutshell, yeah," she says, forcing a grateful smile in return.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Jane says, leaning her elbows on the table, "but if these abilities are always present in Arson's system even when inert, does that mean contact with them can hold the same effect? From saliva or blood, for example."

Anna pulls her head back, and looks at Jane as if seeing her for the first time. "Yes," she replies, impressed. "Although saliva and sweat are exceptions."

Belle's mind staggers to a stop, remembering the young, blooded hero who refused to touch anybody.

"So if Arson's bleeding," Belle poises, her words slow, "at what point does it become safe to touch?"

Anna shrugs. "Ten minutes, or fifteen to be safe," she answers. "If you're in the middle of a fight and you're unsure how much time has passed, then wait until the freshest spatter of her own blood on her person starts to sizzle; without hellfire to protect it, her regular fire can burn— well, any part of her, really. Without hellfire she would quite literally burn herself to a crisp; as far as I'm aware, at least. Perhaps it only applies to dead cells." She frowns. "But she can cauterize her wounds, so maybe it also counts when she's injured? Or maybe that's trait of her regular abilities and her hell abilities have nothing to do with it—"

"Is there any other way to be affected by her inert powers other than the physical?" Belle interrupts, before Anna can confuse herself further. Figuring out the specifics of how Anna's powers intermingle with each other was never a very high priority in Anna's life, apparently; or, perhaps, it was just an issue of never having a method to do so.

Anna stiffens, her hands gripping her pants in white-knuckle grips. "Yeah," she croaks, her eyebrows furrowing. "I— I didn't really want to tell you this without Esmeralda present, but . . ." She bites the inside of her cheek and rocks back to her heels. "In the same regard as how one can encounter hellfire smoke when they try accessing files they're not privy to in Calhoun's system, HFS can be triggered if someone were to go into the wrong place in Arson's brain. And once the inert form of HFS is punctured, it surges into active nature in full attack mode. If that were done now, after what the Ambassadors did to Arson, it would flip her into her split personality in an instant."

One second. Two seconds. Three—

A slow wave of dread washes over Elsa, Mulan, Rapunzel and Jane, the blood draining from their faces like air from a balloon. Rapunzel clamps her hands over her mouth, tears of horror spilling over her cheeks. Jane clutches her stomach, a green pallor colouring her cheeks. Elsa and Mulan sit as stiff as statues, the widening of their eyes the only indication of their brains processing an alarming truth.

"Are you guys okay?" Megara asks, waving her hand in front of Mulan's face. The oriental doesn't blink. Megara frowns and sends Anna an imploring look.

Anna shrugs, but it's stiff. "Don't look at me," she says. "I don't know how to help."

Merida cracks a grin, one that's all teeth and no mirth. "There you go again, making everyone around you miserable," she says. "It must be such a depressing ability."

Anna raises an eyebrow. "You would know better than I," she fires back.

Merida's neck flushes red, her eyes flashing with malice. "The hell are you saying, bitch?" she snarls.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Anna apologies, laughing with a fake jollity that sets the leaguers not engulfed in memories on edge. "I forgot," she says, with a practiced, insincere smile, "your ability isn't to make people miserable, it's to make people wish you were never born."

Something in Merida's brain snaps, and it shows. With a roar, she charges the villain-in-disguise.

Ariel reacts in less than a second, throwing away her chair and taking Merida to the ground face first with savage efficiency. Merida struggles and screams but Ariel holds fast, discipline blanking her features of emotion.

Megara stands in a slow, deliberate motion. "I am officially confused," she says, her gaze flicking over the faces of her friends. "What's happening?"

Anna waves her hand in Merida's direction. "Merida blew her top and Ariel's protective instinct kicked in," she says, neglecting to touch on the four leaguers stuck in a state of despair.

"I see," Megara whispers, her eyebrows twisting as she examines the concentration on Ariel's face. "It's not normal for her to be this serious outside of battle."

"Really?" Anna asks, but she doesn't sound surprised. She glances at the meta-alien. "I'm afraid I don't know her as well as I'd like to, so it's hard for me to relate to your observations."

Belle scoffs, both amazed and disgusted at how good Anna is at lying without ever letting a falsity tumble out of her mouth.

"It was our fault," Mulan whispers, her fingers clenching at her heart. "It was _my_ fault," she croaks, tears stinging her eyes. "I was in charge, I should have known better."

"No, it was _my_ fault," Jane argues, looking like she's going to be sick. " _I'm_ the one who convinced Es to go through with the plan; she never would have agreed otherwise."

"If I hadn't aggravated Arson in to throwing a fit then Es never, she'd never—" Rapunzel sobs, crumbling in on herself.

"Arson proposed a truce," Elsa murmurs, in a daze. "If I had believed her, nothing would have gotten out of hand."

While the rest of the leaguers' focus on their distraught comrades, Belle turns her attention to Anna.

Anna, her side facing the table, turns her head towards the back wall. Belle leans back and, even with most of Anna's face hidden from view, Belle can make out the distressed clenching of her jaw and— Belle blinks, watching the light glitter off something in the villain's eye. Anna, noticing Belle out of the corner of her vision, shifts until she faces the wall and sits on the table. Her hands lift to her face, moving in subtle swiping motions. When Anna drops her hands to the table, Belle has a half a second to notice the wetness on the palms of her hands.

"What was your fault?" Megara asks, her frown deepening. "You're not making any sense."

Elsa glances to Megara, breaking out of her daze. "I—" Elsa tries, her voice cracking. She clears her throat. "Three and a half years ago, the league planned a capture mission, which hinged on Es's ability to keep a villain subdued while we restrained them."

Belle's heart falls into her stomach, details falling into place like a punch to the chest. "Oh my god," she wheezes, her hand lifting to her mouth. "Y-you mean, she—"

"No," Elsa snaps, a defiant set to her jaw. "It was my fault, not hers."

" _What_ was your fault?" Megara snaps.

Mulan pinches the bridge of her nose. "The second Incident," she whispers.

Megara staggers back and Ariel looks up from her task, shock breaking through her emotionless facade. Even Merida stills, her ears perking.

Mulan grits her teeth. "Arson had just about dropped off the map," she explains, "she was still acting behind the scenes, but her active role in conflict was non-existent. We thought— _I_ thought that meant we could disregard her warning and try a capture attempt, and since we had Arson's suppression items the only problem we had was exchanging her mask for ours. That's where Es came in – she would use her abilities to make Arson docile, we would switch out the masks and then she would break the connection. Simple.

"Or it would have been, if Es hadn't of pushed her magic in too far," Mulan adds, a dejected bow to her head. "Arson started screaming, begging Es to stop, and Es started bleeding from her nose, her ears." She winces. "Shang knocked her out, but she was in critical health for weeks afterwards." Her shoulders slump, the bags under her eyes becoming more prominent than usual. "The second Incident was the league's fault."

"Shut _up_ ," Anna snaps, her fingers gripping the table. The leaguers stare at the techie's back, shocked. "Yeah, the league fucked up," Anna growls, "but the league has _always_ made mistakes." Her muscles strain against her hoodie, her fingers digging into the table in a death hold. "The old elites weren't perfect. They were good at making it _look_ like they were perfect, because their abilities complimented each other so well; but if they were perfect do you think the Ambassador fleet would have gotten anywhere near Earth, let alone allowed to cause the resultant destruction?

"Everyone makes mistakes," Anna snarls. "Do you think Athena didn't trip over her own feet sometimes? That she didn't have memories that haunted her at night? Of _course_ she did, because being a meta, even one as powerful as her, didn't make her invincible. You think the old elites were able to save everyone? Well, you're wrong. A year after Mulan was recruited as a junior leaguer, three of the elites deployed to a planet called Hero's Duty and you know what happened? They lost the whole fucking planet."

Anna's back hiccups, and her head falls forward. "I remember the ship landing in the docking bay here at base," she chokes. "I remember Athena and Arson rushing the _sole person_ they were able to save to the medical bay. I remember the devastation on Athena's features when she realized that _sole person_ from a planet of _billions_ would never remerge from that room. I remember the way Athena collapsed into my arms, crying how she should have known, how she should have been able to save everyone."

Anna whirls on the room, her features harsh and her eyes rimmed with red from suppressed tears. "Everyone makes mistakes," she repeats, a finality to her tone. She jabs her finger at the leaguers. "You screwed up, and half a state paid the price." She slaps a hand to her chest. "I messed up, and the future of the league was tossed to the wind." She gestures to a point outside the room. "Arson fucked up, and she not only lost everyone she ever loved, she lost her way. And you know what? I bet after everything was said and done she _wanted_ to come back but she felt it was too late to do so; and yeah, maybe that was a mistake, too, but she's _living_ with it.

"Sometimes you're put in a position you never thought you'd ever find yourself," Anna bites, "but you have to find a way to _live with it_ , just like Arson did." She thrusts her hands forward. "You may have the blood of millions on your hands, and maybe you can feel their lives dripping through your fingers like a living nightmare, but there are _billions of others_ praying that you'll still be there for them at the end of the day." She bares her teeth. "Your life isn't about you anymore; it hasn't been since the moment you stepped into this building and donned the Protector title like a prize begging to be won.

"Being a Protector isn't a prize!" Anna bellows, spittle flying from her mouth. "It's harsh, and it's cruel, and it rips away the things and people you love because it doesn't grant you mercy; but you can't let it cripple you. You can't let it beat you into the dirt and let it consume you, because you're no good to anyone if you can't push yourself out of the fetal position.

"Yes, you're allowed to feel," Anna spits, "but when push comes to shove, you have to do what's _right_." Her gaze flicks to Ariel, if only for a second. "Doing what's right isn't always what's good and righteous. Sometimes doing what needs to be done is dirty and makes your insides twist with disgust, but that's your _job_. You're not supposed to be a saint, you're supposed to be a _Protector_.

"So," Anna rumbles, her back straightening and her shadowed eyes narrowing in challenge. "Are you common, petty metas, or are you carrying the goddamn legacy Athena and Hades fought to forge? Tell me!" she booms. "Are, you, _Protectors?_ "

Ariel jumps to her feet, a fire in her eyes. "I'm a Protector!" she roars, her muscles bulging as she curls into a war cry.

Mulan stands, slamming her hands on the table. "I'm a Protector!" she bellows.

Jane kicks her chair away and throws her fists into the air, a cheer booming from her lips. "Protectors!" she screams.

Megara's eyes light up, an elated grin stretching her lips. "Yeah!" she cheers, throwing punches into the open air in front of her.

Elsa and Rapunzel stand at the same time, determination flashing in their expressions. While Rapunzel joins in the ecstatic cries, Elsa pounds a fist to her chest, ice crackling over her skin.

"For Athena and Hades!" Elsa hollers, and the cacophony doubles in ferocity.

Even Merida joins in the shouting, and Belle—her heart pounding an excited rhythm in her throat—can't help but follow suit.

The tension around Anna's eyes lessens, and a sincere smile stretches her lips. Adoration flashes in her eyes and, when Belle catches Anna's gaze, Anna's expression softens and her smile widens as if to say, 'I'm proud of you.'

Belle's chest warms in a way she hasn't known since the day Arson saved her life. She swallows, suppressing her urge to forget the years the name 'Arson' left bitter bile at the back of her throat.

When the racket settles, Anna's smile has morphed into a grin, and there's a light in her eyes that Belle can only interpret as hope. "Let's get on with the briefing, yeah?" Anna suggests, a gentle calm, a fierce loyalty, ringing in her tone.

* * *

Belle sits in her chair after the briefing, waiting for the rest of the leaguers to file out of the room. While some left right away, others stay to talk to Anna, which the villain-in-disguise is more than willing to oblige.

Anna laughs, and claps a hand on Elsa's shoulder. There's an awkward tint to the redhead's cheeks, but she hides her nervousness well.

"Anytime," Anna replies, the corner of her eyes crinkling in mirth and, for a moment, Belle sees the hero Anna used to be break through her broken exterior. "My door is always open if you need anything, alright?" Anna continues, then barks a laugh. "Well," she corrects, "maybe not all the time. There are some things I'd rather not have people walking in on, ya know?"

Ariel sits on the table, blocking Belle's view. Belle blinks and glances up, startled to note the marine meta is staring right at her.

"You are allowed to go up," Ariel says, her voice soft enough to not be overheard. "It would be better than eying her like a stalker."

Belle quirks an unsure smile. "I wanted to catch her alone," she says.

Ariel flashes her a grin too bright to be innocent. "I can arrange that," she says, bouncing off the table.

"What are you doing?" Belle hisses, but she's too late to stop the meta. "Shit," Belle sighs, watching, helpless, as Ariel skips over to Anna and engulfs the techie in a hug from behind.

"Hello, friend!" Ariel chirps, her eyes sparkling.

Anna smiles, her hands settling on Ariel's arms. "Hello," she greets, sharing a knowing look with an amused Elsa. "Did you need something?"

Ariel purrs, nuzzling into Anna's head. "No," she hums, "but Belle is boring holes in the back of your head, waiting for you to be alone so she can talk to you. She's creepy like that."

" _I'm_ creepy?" Belle fumes, affronted.

"See?" Ariel says, flashing Belle a shit eating grin. "She's a creepy eavesdropper."

Belle narrows her eyes at the alien. "I fucking hate you sometimes," she gripes.

Ariel throws back her head, a booming laugh tumbling from her mouth. "I love you too," she says, without sarcasm. Releasing her captive, Ariel links arms with Elsa and Mulan—the only other leaguers still present—and leads the three of them towards the door. "Let's leave Anna to deal with her stalker," Ariel says, an amused crinkle to her eyes.

"Fucking hell," Belle utters, pinching the bridge of her nose. She waits until she hears the door click before lifting her gaze once more. Her muscles jump in surprise, noting how Anna's demeanour has settled into something grim – aging the woman's appearance to a disturbing degree.

Anna retakes her seat at the head of the table, leaning back with a defeated slump to her shoulders. "Yes?" she asks, her words not presuming the tune of conversation she expects to hear, even though her body language screams it.

Belle tilts her head back and stares at the ceiling, collecting her thoughts. "Did I ever tell you why I hate Arson?" she asks.

Anna raises an eyebrow. "No, you haven't," she says, a tint of curiosity—and fear—colouring her words.

Belle plays with her fingers, a subconscious action. "Arson, or the symbol of Arson, meant a lot to me," she says. "This happened long before Arson was made the leader of the Protectors, even before she was an elite – because Arson always embodied something the other leaguers could never compete against; peace, justice and hope. She fought and acted with a passion never seen before, and has never been seen since." She quirks a smile. "Except, perhaps, until that morale speech of yours earlier."

Anna twitches a smile, but doesn't interrupt.

Belle looks at her hand, spreading her fingers to stare at her palm. "When you publicly declared your villainy," she says, "it was as if I was watching every ideal I ever believed in crumble before my eyes." Belle grits her teeth, to prevent her eyes from misting. "I was _so angry_ with you for betraying what I believed in that, over time, I started to hate what your name stood for, rather than what you stood for as a person.

"I was so used to not seeing you as a human being that, when I found out who you are, I couldn't see you as more than the image I had created in my head," Belle admits, her hands clenching into fists. "I didn't want to see your emotions. I didn't want to know that you have feelings just like everybody else. I didn't want to know you were only playing the villain to allow you the freedom to whatever needed to be done—oh, don't look surprised—because if you did, then that would mean I couldn't hold my grudge against you anymore."

Belle sighs, tapping her temple. "You know my smarts? I didn't always have them; at least not to the extent I have now. I never had them until"— _I got the blood of a genetically modified beast in my system_ —"I met you." She waves away Anna's questioning gaze. "I didn't get them _from_ you, but it happened so close after you rescued me from the Beast of France that I always attributed my heightened intelligence to you."

Anna's eyes widen. "Were you— no, could it?" she mutters to herself. Her eyes flicking back and forth as she analyzes her memories. Her beseeching gaze locks with Belle's, and Anna asks, "Were you that crazy teen who leaped out of her apartment building after the battle was done?"

Belle barks a surprised laugh, unable to help herself. "Yeah," she says, grinning at the memory. "Looking back, my actions scare the shit out of me."

"It might only scare you now, but it scared me pretty bad at the time," Anna retorts. She rubs her hands together. "I remember being covered in blood, and being _terrified_ that I wouldn't be able to save this kid because touching them in that state could be a potential death sentence of its own. Then, after I save this twerp who almost made me defecate myself, the little bastard has the nerve to ask me for my goddamn _name_ like nothing happened!" She laughs. "God, I wanted to drag her to a psych ward."

"Well, I'm glad you didn't," Belle says, her chest warming because _Arson_ —no matter how foul that name has become— _remembers her_.

"Same," Anna agrees, her eyes sparkling with pride once more. She waves her hand in a 'go on' motion. "Sorry for interrupting. You were saying?"

"Uh, hm," Belle hums, her gaze flicking aside as she retraces the conversation. "Oh, right," she says, regaining her balance. "So I always credited you with my abilities and everything I did in the name of good. You were my angel; perfect, flawless, and nothing any mortal could ever hope to touch. You were just . . . everything. Then you fell, and it was if I was watching the only light in the universe crumbling from heaven." Belle closes her eyes, but it doesn't stop the tears from building on her eyelashes. "I know it wasn't healthy," she whispers, "but I was enamoured with the idea that I had met an immortal guardian that over time I forgot that you're human, just like me.

"It's funny," Belle murmurs, making no move to wipe her eyes when the tears start falling. "I remember the moment you locked eyes with me after you crashed into my apartment and thinking, 'she's so young.' I remember fearing for your life because I realized you were a teenager, just like me, but over time I just blocked that part of my memory out. It was always there, at the back of my mind, but I kept ignoring it until it was too late."

Anna sounds a noise of agreement. "If it makes you feel any better the same thing happened to me, but with Athena," she says, smiling when Belle opens her eyes. "I'd known Athena for a year before I actually met _Athena_ , if you know what I mean; but to her I was always the smart little kid who got into university years before I rightfully should have. I was stubborn though, and I wanted her attention. Most of my attempts had her sneering at me, or sending me a pitying look that made me feel sick inside.

"Then, after one particularly bad day during my second year," Anna continues, "I was cornered by an upperclassmen. I was so angry that I punched him in the gut full force, without thinking. He flew back several meters and slammed into a tree, cracking the back of his skull. He survived," she adds, off Belle's look, "but it scared the shit outta me. I'd always known I had powers, but my adoptive parents taught me that it was better to never rely on them. They never taught me what to do after I had _already_ used them.

"And, lo and behold, when I looked around I found Athena—out of costume—staring at me with these wide, unbelieving eyes," Anna says, rubbing her jaw. "Long story short, I ran, Athena caught up, I told her to stay away because I couldn't control it, and Athena just talked to me until I calmed down. She brought me back to her dorm room, argued with Hades when he showed up, and then offered to train me.

"Long story even shorter," Anna summarizes, "I started seeing Athena as this all-powerful being who could do anything. I'm sure she would have put a stop to that thinking had she or Hades been around more, but that first year in the league was . . . lonely. I started talking to inanimate objects and, uh, yeah. Then the Beast of France thing happened and Hades and Athena started hanging around more, so I was finally able to see her for her." Anna meets Belle's gaze. "Maybe the same can happen for you?" she implores.

Belle blinks, staring into the teal eyes hiding a damaged soul, knowing it pines to replace the devastation it carries. "Maybe," Belle hinges, her eyebrows furrowing. "Don't get me wrong, despite my best judgement I _want_ to like you, but you have a pretty damning rep sheet to consider."

Anna twitches an understanding, if disappointed, smile. "Yeah, I get it," she says, standing. "But you never know," she adds, her voice lifting into a teasing lilt, "maybe we'll be close one day."

Belle quirks her head, unsure how to take the villain's words. "I think I'd need to learn more about you, first," she says.

Anna shrugs, and walks towards the door. "People can be friends without knowing their deep dark secrets," she says, pausing with her hand on the handle. "But I get where you're coming from," she admits. "Just . . . give me time, okay? I'll tell you want you want to know eventually, but I'm not ready to face certain realities of my past just yet." She forces a reassuring smile, and exits the room.

Belle stares at the open door, letting her brain mull over the words. After a moment she sighs, and exits the room herself; knowing she won't be the same person she was when she walked in.


	17. The Lone Meta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my beta, [Waela ](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/5470087/Waela)(FFnet).
> 
> * * *

Three Years Ago

Anna blinks her eyes open, despite the dreadful throbbing behind her eyes and her sluggish, aching limbs.

_I fucking hate that suppressant_ , Anna thinks, throwing her legs over the edge of the bed with _far_ too much difficulty. She rubs her temples, allowing her pounding eyes to slip shut. Her vision had started fraying at the edges anyway.

After fifteen minutes of making peace with her nauseous limbs, Anna stands with a groan that puts zombies to shame. "Oh my God," she croaks, her eyes watering. Her knees shake, her breath is shallow, and she feels like someone mixed a liter of lead into her blood while she was sleeping. If only it actually _was_ lead – that, at least, is a type of poison her body can dispel before it becomes much of a problem.

Anna's stomach lurches, and her eyes widen. She's going to be sick.

Staggering to—and through—the bedroom door, Anna stumbles like a drunk into the bathroom and curls into the first suitable puke-bowl she sees. She realises too late that her mask is still on and, despite the vents being open, the acrid bile pools and presses against her skin. Her nose is overwhelmed and she pukes again in reflex. Before Anna can suffer round three, she unhooks her mask and lets it clatter against the violated tub, but her gut doesn't settle.

"Oh, please no," Anna sobs, before her back hunches once more and she spills whatever dared remain in her stomach.

Anna closes her eyes to stop the world from spinning, and presses a vomit-covered cheek against the cold linoleum. She suspects this is what dying feels like.

"Uh, hey," an unsure voice sounds from the doorway. Anna didn't hear them approach, but that doesn't surprise her; her hearing is distorted to the point she can't even tell if the person who spoke is male or female.

"Put me out of my misery," Anna moans, her leg twitching in an involuntary muscle contraction.

For a long couple of seconds the newcomer doesn't answer. Anna entertains the idea that the person is considering her proposal, and smiles despite herself. If only she was that lucky.

The newcomer sighs and steps forward, turning on the shower.

Anna squeaks and writhes, but she depleted whatever strength she might have had getting into this sad little position. "Haven't I suffered enough?" she whimpers, tears leaking from her eyes; though she doubts anyone can tell with the water.

"I don't know," the newcomer whispers, stiff, before lifting Anna's torso over the lip of the tub and spraying her down.

Anna twitches and resists like a fish flopping against a fisherman's grip, her super strength, and regular strength, fleeing her when she needs it the most.

The nozzle moves around the back of Anna's head to her other cheek, and she screeches like a mortified cat when the freezing cold water runs along her neck and under her uniform. She's going to be fucking soaked by the time this asshole is done, and Anna doesn't know when she'll be able to use fire to dry herself.

"There," the person murmurs, turning off the water. Anna almost sobs in relief. "Come to the kitchen when you're ready."

_So, never? Got it_ , Anna thinks, resisting the urge to hiss at the stranger. Or maybe they're not a stranger at all, and Anna just doesn't have enough working brain cells to process it.

Anna's not sure how much time passes until she works up the strength to push her sodden upper half out of the tub, or how long after that until she can manage to stand, but she does. On uncertain feet Anna leaves the bathroom and her mask behind, and blinks.

"Uh, right, okay," Anna murmurs, frowning at the splintered wood littering the hallway, then to the fragment of a door hanging from broken hinges. "I'm just going to assume I did that," she airs, noting that she doesn't remember opening any doors, and she always sleeps behind a locked one. "Good thing Hans has money," she utters, stumbling towards the smell of coffee.

In the dining room a lone figure sits with their head in their hands, an untouched cup of water in front of them. Anna sits in the chair opposite them with enough force to send vibrations through the floor, and she winces.

"Ow," Anna grunts, trying to adjust herself to sit straight instead of forward and slanted.

The figure raises their head, a mild scowl marring their lips, and Anna's eyes widen.

"Oh, hey," Anna says, softer than she thought she was capable of. "It's, uh, it's been a while."

The man, Kristoff, shifts and crosses his arms over his chest. He looks as uneasy as Anna feels; as if neither of them quite know where the floor is, but in different respects.

"Yeah," Kristoff says, his tone harsh, "I know."

Anna winces. Kristoff and her used to be so close before the first Incident, but Anna ruined that along with everything else.

The villain clears her throat and taps her glove-covered fingers on the table, ignoring the sharp spikes the motion spears into her brain. "So," Anna says, elongating the word, "how are mom and dad?"

Kristoff's eyes harden. " _My_ mom and dad are coping, no thanks to you," he snaps.

A knife twists in Anna's heart and she blinks away the tears threatening to mist her eyes. She looks away, her jaw muscles twitching with the effort to not constrict. "That's fair," she grits, staring out into the evening sky. Rustic oranges and reds paint the scattered clouds, edging into the fading blue atmosphere. "Hans never showed, I take it?" she asks, changing the topic.

Kristoff forces a stiff shrug. "No," he grunts. "Said he couldn't risk it. Something about not wanting to tip off Scar." He sneers. "You know Hans never would have been put in such a position if you—"

"Because everything's my fault now, isn't it?" Anna mocks. "Marital trouble? Well it must be Arson. Kid goes missing? Must be Arson. Grease fire? Well! That one just speaks for itself!" Anna laughs, loud and fake. "Arson killed her fellow elites so—" her voice cracks before she can finish her scolding jibe and she scowls. "I get enough blame from everyone else," she spits, "I'd rather not hear it from you, too."

For a moment Kristoff stares, then he reaches for his water. "I doubt what you want is relevant right now," he says, more logical than before. He swirls the glass, staring at it as small waves of water cascade over the rim. "Judging by your earlier state and your sopping appearance, I could say or do whatever I want and you wouldn't be able to do a thing about it."

Anna's eyebrows furrow, unpleasant memories swirling in her mind and tightening her chest. "Probably," she allows, lifting a hand and staring at her wet glove. Her arm trembles with the effort and her fingers shake. She doubts she could lift a spoon right now, let alone conjure fire. Her hand falls back to her lap with a sigh. She wants to rub her eyes to relieve the pressure behind them, but she doesn't want to waste the energy. "So what are you going to do?" Anna asks, refocusing her attention outside. "If you want to kill me, I doubt I could stop you." She quirks a humourless half smile. "I can't say I won't try to fight back, but any defensive capabilities I have right now won't be very good."

Kristoff frowns. "Do you want me to kill you?" he asks.

Anna barks a hard laugh, the force pressing against her skull in harsh, pounding throbs. "For your own mental wellbeing I wouldn't want it to be you, no," she answers, "but death itself, well, I wouldn't mind that." Her eyes harden. She would say, 'I cheated death, and now it's chasing me,' but that's not true. Reaper isn't chasing her, he's laughing at her.

"You're . . ." Kristoff frowns, considering his words. "This isn't how I expected you to be," he settles with.

Anna scuffs. "What, you expected a cold blooded murderer?" she scolds, even if it makes sense. "I mean yeah, I can't control myself sometimes"—she doesn't mention Red Arson, a point of shame that gives her nightmares—"but I haven't lost myself. At least not yet."

Kristoff stares, but doesn't respond.

Anna weathers the kinks in her neck to look behind her, into the kitchen, when her nose catches the whiff of coffee once more. She sees a small pot keeping warm on a stove element, and her mouth waters. She doesn't even care how long it's been sitting there, she wants the whole damn thing. Only, when she tries to stand, her dominant leg gives out and she crashes abdomen first into the table.

"Ah, fuck!" Anna swears, as her armour presses into her skin. Her body slides back towards her chair, but her ass only half catches the seat and she crashes into the floor.

The next thing Anna knows, frustrated tears are burning her eyes and Kristoff is on his feet, ready to pounce.

"Damn it," Anna wheezes, a coughing fit overcoming her. She really, _really_ hates that suppressant.

Kristoff takes a hesitant step forward. "Are . . . you okay?" he asks, but Anna questions if he really cares about the answer.

"Of course I'm not fucking okay," Anna barks. "What part of me vomiting all over myself or falling on my goddamn face makes you think that I am in anyway 'okay'? Fucking retard." She tastes copper on her tongue, and her lip curls. "Shit," she swears. "Stay away from me," she orders, when Kristoff risks another step, "I taste blood."

The offence on Kristoff's features melts away and he nods. He shuffles from foot to foot, looking awkward. "So," her brother—or maybe only Anna considers them to be siblings, now—says, clearing his throat, "what happened to you?"

"You're going to have to be more specific than that," Anna grits, trying to push herself into an upright position, and failing. She collapses back to the floor with a hiss, pain flaring through her cheek upon impact. "God damn it I hate this shit," Anna spits, relenting to her suffering body and allowing herself to rest. Her position is awkward and painful and she feels like a monkey is trying to pull her spine out her ass with a rusty nail, but she lays there. It's always like this when she takes the suppressant, if a degree worse each time, and she knows trying to move won't work in her favour.

Kristoff kneels, lowering himself enough for Anna to look at his face, if she cared to extend the effort.

"What happened to get you into this state?" Kristoff tries again, his trademark patience starting to make a reappearance. "Hans said you looked tired when he talked to you, but otherwise appeared to be in good order. Did something happen on your way here?"

"Oh," Anna murmurs, her eyes slipping shut. "No, it happened before I talked to Hans, it just hadn't set in yet. Scar gave me," she hums, considering the best phrasing, "well, you know Scar; you never quite know what to expect from him. From my body's reaction, I can only deduce that he introduced something into my system that would be lethal to literally anyone else. But I can't say I'm faring much better then you plebs would, right now."

Kristoff's muscles jump, his eyes widening in surprise. "Scar tried to kill you?" he blurts.

"Nah," Anna airs, flopping a flippant hand against the floor. "I'm too useful for him to dispose of me. Doesn't mean he doesn't get a kick out of testing my limits, though." She opens her eyes, her gaze unfocused. "He's . . . still a good kid," she lies. "He is," she insists, before she closes her eyes once more and stops deluding herself. Tears well and spill from her eyes, her heart throbbing with a deep, hollow ache.

"What have I done, Kristoff?" Anna asks in a whisper, to prevent her voice from cracking. Her chest hiccups and she presses her forehead into the floor, forcing the overwhelming pain of her body to drown out the memories. "I was never supposed to become a monster."

Kristoff exhales a surprised puff of air. After a second he sits down beside Anna's prone form, laying a hesitant hand on her shoulder.

"If I may," Kristoff says, choosing his words carefully, "what tragedies befell you?"

Anna chokes a dry laugh. "You're definitely going to have to be more specific than that," she jests, then lets the humorous pretence fall. "But if you ask for the reason I've forsaken myself, I'm afraid the memories are too horrible to recollect." She twitches a vacant smile. "I wish I could give you the answers you want; truly, I do, but I am not as strong as either of us thought I was. If I was, none of this would have ever come to pass."

A long silence stretches between them, one Anna knows Kristoff will be reluctant to break. Hell, even Anna is reluctant to break it – but it's been a long time since she's had someone to confide in, and there are some things she has to ask now, because she knows this can't last. Whatever 'this' is.

"I never wanted to kill them," Anna croaks, her voice wavering as the memories of murdering the old elites assault her brain. "They were my friends and I loved them more than my heart could bare, so when I—" She grits her teeth, and pushes her forehead into the floor with extra fervour.

"Stop it, Anna; you're going to hurt yourself," Kristoff says, and if Anna didn't know better she might even say he's concerned.

"I'm already hurt," Anna bites, her breathing laboured. "Isn't it obvious? Sibling, friend, enemy – whatever you are now it doesn't matter because you know me well enough to see it, don't you?" She opens her eyes and stares into Kristoff's wary gaze. "I've been hurt for a while, only I'm not recovering from it this time. What does that tell you?"

Kristoff narrows his eyes. "It tells me you were too foolhardy to seek help," he snaps.

Anna bares her teeth. "I _did_ seek help, you pretentious fucking asshole," she snarls, before her mind starts spinning. "Oh boy," she slurs, her eyes slipping shut once more. She thinks she murmurs a half-understandable apology, but she blacks out before she can confirm it.

When Anna wakes up she's laying on the couch with a blanket over top of her. She looks around. It's dark out, so she was out for at least an hour or so. The smell of coffee is gone, and her mask—cleaned, thank god—is placed on a nearby end table.

Anna sighs through her nose and stares at the ceiling. Her head still pounds and her eyes ache as much as her other abused muscles, but her vision isn't fraying anymore. She's sure her vision would start going haywire once more if she overdoes it, but she doesn't have any intention of doing that.

"Oh, you're awake," Kristoff says, staring at her from the entryway to the kitchen, a damp dishcloth in his hands. "Are you feeling any better?"

"That question's relative, I think," Anna hums. It can be argued that she's getting better physically, but Anna doubts that offsets how bad she's faring on the mental front. "But for the purpose you're asking for," she adds, "I still feel like a sack of rotten potatoes."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Anna is about to snap a biting response, when she realizes the speaker wasn't Kristoff; and while their voice doesn't trigger a name, it sends Anna's heart plummeting into her stomach.

Anna scrambles off the couch, or tries to. Her stomach lurches at the sudden movement and she collides shoulder-first into the floor, sending pins and needles through the ice-damaged nerves, and making her head spin with a new agony.

"Whoa, hey!" Kristoff says, a trace of concern in his voice. "Don't push yourself."

"Who the _fuck_ did you invite into this apartment?" Anna snarls, like a wolf snapping its teeth. She keeps trying to make the connection herself but her brain isn't connecting point A to point B, so all Anna knows is that, whoever this person is, their presence is kicking her straight into flight mode; and that is _never_ a good thing.

Kristoff blinks. "Just Emma and Darryl," he says, with a frown. "You know, Jen's parents?"

If Anna didn't have adrenaline keeping her heart from stopping, she's sure that statement alone would've killed her.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Anna squeaks, trying to control her breathing. She pushes from the floor, forcing herself through the resultant pain, and staggers towards the balcony. She might not be able to fly right now, but a drop from this height would be enough to kill her; which is a much more desirable fate than whatever those two plan to do with her.

"Running again?" a deep voice rumbles; Darryl. "How long will you continue before you stop and face the music?"

Anna grits her teeth, anger boiling in her chest. She already 'faced the music' once, and she refuses to do it again. Someone sighs.

"Listen, Anna," Darryl says, trying again, "the reason I'm here is because Emma and I found a way to help you. So if you'd—"

"I don't want your help!" Anna refuses, her quick, shallow breathing puffing on the glass of the balcony door as she struggles to open it with uncoordinated fingers. "I'm not listening!" Anna shouts, when Darryl tries speaking once more, and presses her free hand onto one of her ears. A keening whine of despair sounds in Anna's throat and she punches the glass, sending cracks through it but not breaking it.

Anna takes a knee, wheezing. She doesn't have enough strength to deal with this. Tears well in her eyes and, with a cry, she slams her fist into the glass once more, then again; each punch holding less power than the last.

"I won't let this happen again," Anna mutters, like an unconscious prayer as her weakening knuckles continue connecting with the glass door. "Not again," she murmurs, tears streaking her cheeks. "Please, not again."

"That's enough, Anna!" Kristoff shouts, a tinge of unadulterated ire seeping into his words. "Out of all our better judgements we have come to help you, so stop acting like a brat and let us!"

"Stop, Kristoff," a female, Emma, whispers. "Don't judge her too harshly. She has reason to fear us."

"O . . . kay?" Kristoff questions, his eyebrows furrowing. He doesn't know who they really are, and Anna regrets not telling him. Or maybe telling him would have led to this scenario sooner.

"Please leave the apartment now," Emma instructs, a steely undertone to the words. "But, before you go, if there's anything you want to say to Anna, this is your last chance."

"Wh— are you going to kill her?" Kristoff exclaims, alarm ringing in his tone.

"Not if we can help it, no," Darryl says. "I meant it when I said we're here to help, but Anna will never forgive us no matter what we do to atone; and now she will associate you with us. I'm afraid she'll go out of her way to make sure she never lays eyes on you again from here on out."

"I—" Kristoff blinks tears from his eyes. "B-but that's not fair." His voice is strained. "That's not fair!" he says, with more conviction. "I just got to see her again, and I'm beginning to think that everything that happened wasn't her fault! She might be suffering and hurting over something we wrongfully blamed her for and I want to know! And if we were wrong, I want to be there for her! God damn it, I want to help her, too!"

"Yes, well," Emma murmurs, "I'm afraid that chance has been lost. Please say whatever you need to, and then leave."

Anna feels copper well on her tongue, and she spits the blood into her palm and on her knuckles. She might not have her active powers anymore, but that doesn't make her helpless. Even weakened she has a chance, a slim one, so long as Emma and Darryl didn't break their seals.

"I won't leave," Kristoff spits, holding his ground. "For whatever reason, she's scared of you; and it's my duty to protect her."

Anna barks a dark, bitter laugh. "How rich!" she cackles, shifting her kneeling position to face the room instead of the door. She glares at Kristoff, the white of her eyes bloodshot with strain. "You've already failed in your 'duty' to protect me. I bet you're not even aware of how many times I _needed_ protecting, let alone the times you were actually capable of aiding me." She scowls. "You made it clear that I lost my rights to care about you or _your_ family, so let me make it clear that you have lost _your_ rights to care about _me_. So get out."

Kristoff's chest hiccups with suppressed sobs, but Anna doesn't know if he's mourning the bond he just lost or the Anna he remembers before the first Incident.

"Please," Kristoff pleads, wet and pitiful, "don't—"

"I said get out!" Anna roars, traces of blood spraying from her mouth.

Emma sighs. "Just do it, please," she says. "You can't reason with her while Darryl and I are here."

Anna grits her teeth at the name drop. God how she wishes she could rip out everyone's throat the moment they speak these two's cursed names.

Kristoff's hand tremble. "I love you, Anna," he chokes. "Just remember that, okay?"

Anna cracks a scolding smile. "It's a little late for a change of heart," she says. "But don't worry," she rumbles, "I'll remember _everything_ that happened here."

Kristoff's shoulders slump, but he grabs his jacket and heads to the door. "Please don't hurt her," he whispers, then leaves.

"I'm afraid we already have," Darryl murmurs, his gaze flicking to the spit and blood dripping down Anna's glove. He doesn't comment.

"We'll make this short," Emma says, setting a small container next to Anna's mask. "That's a hell ability suppressant," she explains, stepping backwards until Anna stops hissing at her. "It's a retainer, of a sort, that I made to fit the hard palate of your mouth. When you're wearing it you won't be able to activate hell abilities and it will suppress any hell abilities already in play, so you won't have to take whatever it is that leaves you like this."

Anna narrows her eyes, her heart threatening to break through her ribcage and run away. "I won't accept _anything_ from you," she growls.

"That's . . . fair," Emma says, with a remorseful smile. "But keep it just in case, okay? You never know if a situation will arise that wearing it or killing your friends will be the only options on your plate."

Anna bares her teeth. "Is that a threat?" she snarls.

"No," Emma says. "It's a truth about your condition now. One Darryl and I should have realized sooner."

Anna's fingers tremble, and she knows her frayed emotions won't be able to stand strong in the presence of these two for much longer.

"Great, good for you," Anna snaps. "Now get out of my fucking life." Emma and Darryl don't move. "You made your delivery, didn't you?" Anna bellows. "If you wanted to tell me you figured it out what happened to me well guess what I already fucking know because I'd be dead right now if you didn't. If you wanted to gauge my emotions to see whether or not my heart is capable of forgiving you I'm afraid that isn't a possibility either. So I'll take your damn gift to make sure you never come back, but I can promise you I won't use anything you monsters give me."

Darryl's fingers tighten into fists but he doesn't say anything.

Emma's cheerless smile widens, a thin gloss of tears wetting her eyes. "Okay," she says, placing a hand on Darryl's bicep and guiding him towards the door. She pauses halfway out and, without turning back, whispers, "You know, you're not the only one who prays for Athena and Hades' forgiveness." The door shuts, leaving Anna alone.

That's when the tears and the agonising wails come. That's when Anna curls into the fetal position and clutches her head, begging the memories to leave her alone. That's when her mental distress reaches the point where Chel hacks into the TV in the apartment to write the words, 'Do you want to teleport to the bunker?' because she knows Anna won't check her phone. Anna agrees and Chel teleports her, her mask and the suppression item to her and Athena's conjoined bunker. Then, without asking, Chel uses her magnetization to inject Anna with san anaesthetic that knocks her out cold.

* * *

Present Day 

Anna stares at the ceiling, awoken from yet another nightmare. The bouts of horrid dreams had been limited during her stay thanks to Calhoun's dwindling stockpile of remedies, but they were never enough to stop them completely. This set of nightmares had been the worst of the past week, thanks to the issues surrounding the Ambassadors and tainted hellfire.

Not wanting to risk revisiting the land of dreams, Anna rises from her bed, slips on a pair of flip flops and leaves her room. There's a slight chill to the air, she notices, and raises an eyebrow. It's unlike Calhoun to tinker with the heat settings, which means it's something else.

Anna's eyebrows smooth. "Ah," she hums, following the nippy drafts.

The villain finds who she's looking for in the kitchen, clutching a frosted mug between their trembling hands. Anna stares at Elsa's faded royal blue pajamas, covering her from neck to ankle to wrists. There's an old toothpaste stain on the front of her shirt and the beginnings of a tear on the right knee. As for the wearer herself, Elsa appears drawn and haggard, as if she could fall asleep or break down crying at a moment's notice.

"You look as shitty as I feel," Anna jests, smiling when Elsa startles. "Sorry," she apologizes, "I didn't mean to sneak up on you."

Elsa relaxes. "It's fine," she says, moving to take a sip of her drink. She stops and stares at her mug for a second, then sighs and puts it aside. Anna hears the solid bump against the counter and cracks an amused grin.

"You could just thaw it and put it in the microwave, you know," Anna says, leaning against the door frame.

"I could," Elsa allows, "but I only made it to give me something to do, ya know?"

Anna's expression falls into something more serious. "Yeah," she agrees, "I get that." She walks into the room and grabs a pot, a whisk, a jug of milk, sugar, cocoa, and cinnamon. "I also know that standing there looking depressed with a frozen drink isn't going to help you, either," she says. "So I'll give you some company. To be honest I kind-of needed some myself."

"I see," Elsa says, stepping beside Anna and watching her work. "What's keeping you up?"

"The same thing as you, I suspect," Anna replies, putting guesstimated portions of her ingredients into the pot. "Our memories may be different, but everyone has one recollection or another that haunts them." She puts the ingredients away and turns on an element. "How are your parents, anyway? Have you talked to them at all since you came back to base?"

Elsa's shoulders slump, the corners of her eyes pinching. "I haven't had the courage," she admits.

"It only gets harder with time," Anna warns, starting a continuous whisk. "The longer you wait the more difficult it will be for you to face them, to the point where you'll convince yourself that it's too late to do anything. We don't know for sure if what happened to your parents is permanent or not because hellfire smoke wasn't used in the experiment—as far as we're aware—so you have to hang in there, for them." She flashes Elsa a smile. "Like I said before, your life isn't about you anymore; it's about the people around you, and if you give up on them they'll give up on themselves, too."

Elsa blinks. "That's, uh," she clears her throat. "Sorry, I guess I shouldn't be surprised by you being so insightful."

Anna laughs, and it almost sounds genuine. She supposes only she would detect the difference, though. "Be surprised all you like," she says. "I turned out to be a failure of a human being, after all."

Elsa frowns, leaning back to get a better look at Anna. "How do you mean?" she asks.

Anna sighs, staring at her hand as it rotates the whisk. "I don't want to talk about it," she murmurs, extending a conscious effort to keep her super strength at bay. The last thing she needs is Elsa figuring out she's a meta by Anna breaking a solid metal whisk handle, of all things. "So, your parents," Anna says, changing the topic. "No matter who they are now, just remember what you love about them, okay? That doesn't mean you disregard who they currently are or any danger they pose, but it'll help you stay strong until we can determine whether or not we can reverse what happened. Even if we can't, maybe they can change with the help of your belief. Humans are capable of change, after all, even if we might detest it sometimes."

"There you go again," Elsa chuckles, warm and inviting. "But yeah, I agree," she says, glancing to the far wall. "I guess in a way I already knew, but I was too stubborn to accept who my parents have become. I've known them my whole life so seeing them like this—" she grits her teeth, tears welling in her eyes.

Anna's throat tightens. "Tell me about them," she says, to elevate the weight settling on her heart.

Elsa blinks and stares at Anna for a long couple of seconds. "You want to listen to me ramble on about people you don't even know?" she asks.

_Not really_. Anna thinks. "Yes," she replies.

Elsa quirks a small, half smile. "Sorry for my scepticism, but you don't really strike me as the type," she says, then pauses. "Well, that's not exactly true," she amends. "You give off mixed vibes; as if you want to be there for the people around you yet have nothing to do with them at the same time."

Anna hums. "Perhaps," she allows. "Listen," she adds, changing the topic. "People never really change, even when they change. Whether someone changes in a good way or a bad way, they can be pulled back to whatever side they originated on given the right circumstances. The same can be said about your parents if you believe hard enough for the three of you; because I can assure you they don't believe in themselves right now. So," she continues, "tell me about your parents, and remember why you love them."

The focus in Elsa's eyes fades. She stays like that for a moment, thinking, before saying, "The list of why I love my mom and dad is a little too long to get into, but if I had to pick something . . ." She smiles, the attention in her eyes returning. "They found out I was a meta when I was a little kid, but not being magically inclined themselves they had to figure out a way to raise me that would make me inclined to listen to them.

"What they decided upon was mutual respect," Elsa says, with a grin. "They were parents and comrades at the same time, always having the philosophy that I should treat them how I would like to be treated in return. Sure they'd still step in or overrule plans or decisions like parents are supposed to, but they'd always explain why so I wouldn't feel the need to lash out.

"As for my powers"—Elsa's smile grows impossibly larger—"their stance was, 'as long as none of your actions can be considered criminal or harmful to others' I was allowed to use them." She laughs. "I got so many nightmares of police officers coming to my house and arresting me that I refused to use magic unless I could be absolutely discreet about it. It was only when Arson—" she trails off, her humour fading. She clears her throat. "After I decided to take the route of a superhero," she amends, "they supported me hundred percent.

"They paid for my university, boarding, food, and even created cover stories when something went awry," Elsa says, her smile returning. "One time they forgot to relay one of their cover stories to me and a huge fucking mess spiraled out of it, but we were able to get out of it by working together. With the help of Rapunzel and her family, of course."

"How do you know Rapunzel?" Anna finds herself asking.

"I saved her and her dad during an avalanche at a ski resort," Elsa replies. "My powers weren't all that developed at the time, I was still just a child after all, so it took all my might to shield the three of us, but I did it. Her dad was so grateful he had his family move closer to mine, under the promise that I continue to keep his daughter safe.

"Unlike my parents," Elsa continues, "Rapunzel's were strict and controlling. Not because they were trying to isolate her or anything, but because they were scared someone would recognize their daughter's power and take her. Her parents realized that metas and non-metas alike would literally kill to get their hands on a healer, so they always kept her close and forbade her from using her abilities, period.

"That is, until I came along," Elsa says, with a silly grin. "We've been best friends ever since. Me because I finally had another meta to interact with and care for, and her because I gave her freedom. She still called me a control whore every now and again when I was being stubborn on an issue, but other than that I basically let her do whatever she wanted, so long as she was safe and kept me updated."

Anna's lips curl into a smile without her authorization, but she allows it nonetheless. "That sounds nice," she says, a pang of jealousy, of loss, sparking in her chest.

Elsa nods. "It is," she agrees. She tilts her head. "I should give her parents a call and update them on the game plan. They'll be able to help me on the home front while I work with you and the others to solve all of this."

"Good idea," Anna approves, turning off the element. She opens a cabinet and reaches for two mugs, grabbing one with Elsa's snowflake emblem and another with—

Anna's hand hovers over a white mug with Arson's red flame and cog symbol, half shocked it hasn't been shattered and half debating whether or not she should actually use it. She notes that the one mug—the other three _have_ been destroyed, it seems—sits on a separate shelf from the current league members, placed alongside the old elites. Her gaze flickers over Athena's symbol, a simplified flying eagle holding a spear in its talons, to Hades', a blue flaming black crown, to—

"We don't use those," Elsa supplies, from her spot beside the stove.

Anna's muscles jump, only just managing to keep her grip on Elsa's mug.

"Sorry," Anna apologies, lowering her hand. "The last time I was here that was the shelf the plain cups and mugs were on." Her free hand balls into a fist, the corners of her eyes pinching. "I didn't expect to see . . ." She shakes her head, grabbing another one of Elsa's mugs, shutting the cabinet, and walking back to the stove. "Hope you don't mind," she murmurs, pouring the contents of the pot into both mugs.

Elsa examines Anna, a little furrow between her eyebrows. She doesn't say anything.

Anna picks up one of the mugs and hands it to Elsa handle first. If it were anyone else it holding it this way would burn their hand, but heat, at least, is one of the things Anna doesn't have to worry about. "It's hot chocolate, made my way," Anna says, addressing the confusion in Elsa's eyes. "Trust me, it helps." The corners of her lips twitch into a small smile. "I like it hot, so you might need to cool it down before you drink it."

Amusement colours Elsa's cheeks as she takes hold of the handle. "That shouldn't be a problem," she jests.

Anna holds her now free hand in a 'hold up' gesture. "I said 'cool down' not 'freeze solid,'" she says. "Think you can distinguish the two?"

Elsa narrows her eyes. "There's no need to be a shit," she says.

Anna laughs. "But I'm so good at it!" she teases, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

Elsa's features relax, a softness easing the serious set of her eyes. "Can I ask you a question?" she asks.

Anna raises an eyebrow. "People don't normally ask permission unless they don't think their question will be taken very well," she says, taking a sip of her drink. "So I guess it depends on whether or not you think I'll answer."

"I was just going to ask how you were raised," Elsa says. "You got me talking about my parents and Punz, and I realized that I know next to nothing about you. I know basic things, like you used to be a tech for the old elites, you used to hang out with Merida and her mom, you used to be engaged, and you're, well, traumatized, but that's about it."

Anna gives Elsa a look. "Did you ever think that I kept details about myself scarce for a reason?" she asks.

"Of course," Elsa replies, "but I also know that you've been revealing a lot of information ever since your return. I'm not sure what changed, and I'm not going to ask, but I think it means you'll be a little more liberal with information."

_She's right_ , Anna thinks, with a sigh. "What do you want to know?" she asks.

Elsa smiles, bright and warm. "Who are your parents?" she asks.

Anna's mug stops halfway to her mouth. The wintry hero couldn't start with an easy question, could she?

"You're going to have to specify on that," Anna says, lowering her drink. "Do you want to know about my birth parents, or my adoptive parents?"

Elsa's eyes widen, taken aback. "Uh, both?" she questions, her eyebrows furrowing. "Yeah," she decides, "both."

Anna purses her lips. She should have expected as much. "Well," she says, leaning on the counter, "I don't know much about my birth parents, except they died when I was only a couple years old. I know a few details about my birth father thanks to me sharing the same last name, but my birth mother? No idea. I couldn't find anything on her besides the 'literally named Jane Doe' morgue records, so I'm pretty sure she was an illegal immigrant." _Or an alien_ , she thinks.

"As for my adoptive parents," Anna says, "they raised me"—with the belief that using magic should never be relied upon, especially in front of strangers—"to be kind. I was always a bit rambunctious, though, so their son made sure he always carried a medical kit and a pack of rubber gloves with him. I'm pretty sure I'm the reason he become a paramedic."

Elsa quirks her head. "You're not using familial terminology," she states. "Is that for the sake of this retelling, or because you weren't close with the family that adopted you?"

"Oh I was close to them," Anna assures, "and I love them more than my heart can bare sometimes but they— well, their son, disowned me a couple years back." Anna frowns and sets her mug on the counter, not trusting herself to refrain from boiling the contents.

Elsa chokes on her hot chocolate. "He did _what?_ " she wheezes, leaning over the sink and hacking her lungs out.

"He had the grounds to do it," Anna defends. Disowned or not, she still considers Kristoff her brother, and she will protect him. Anna's eyes harden. Even if he did pull that horrid stunt with Emma and Darryl.

"What did you do to him?" Elsa croaks, tears of pain or discomfort welling in her eyes. Her throat bobs with the effort to keep her coughing fit at bay.

Anna reaches over and rubs the hero's hunched back in a soothing rhythm. "Elinor's funeral wasn't the only one I didn't attend," Anna explains, "nor was her family the only one I ignored in their time of peril. Friends and extended family members of mine died during both Incidents, and I never went home to mourn with my family. I was distraught and angry and I wasn't thinking straight, and I pushed everyone I cared about as far away from me as possible. My brother reacted in turn."

Elsa straightens, wiping spit and hot chocolate from her chin. "Why would you do such a thing?" she asks, glancing at Anna with red-rimmed eyes.

Anna shrugs, crossing her arms over her chest in a self-conscious gesture. "A lot happened during the first Incident," she murmurs, using all of her superb strength to not curl in on herself. "My fiancée, she—" Anna swallows, biting back the whine of despair clawing at her throat. "Arson killed her, in front of me." Anna's chest lurches, and she clamps both hands over her mouth as tears burst forth and soak her cheeks.

_Arson cackles, staring down at Athena's crushed eagle-inspired helm, blood and brain matter leaking through the cracks. Arson raises her foot and slams it into the broken helm, whooping at the sound of crushing metal and crunching bone. While Athena's armour holds its own against regular attacks, it becomes malleable when heated to the proper temperature._

_Arson bends and rams her knuckles through Athena's breastplate, her ribcage, and crushes the meta's heart. Just in case._

" _You will never make anyone suffer ever again," Arson growls, throwing Athena's body away like a useless piece of trash._

"Anna. _Anna!_ " Elsa shouts, holding the fire meta by the shoulders and keeping her steady. "There you are," she praises. "That's good. Look at me, okay? Good girl. Mimic my breathing."

Anna hyper-focuses on Elsa's every movement, filling her thought process with Elsa and only Elsa to forget the sight of Athena's bone and blood on her hands; the feel of Athena's heart in her palm.

"There," Elsa breathes, after who knows how long, and relaxes her grip. "You're better now," she says.

Anna begs to differ. She reaches out and grabs Elsa's shirt, pulling the meta close enough that Anna can press the bridge of her nose into the croak of Elsa's shoulder. "I never asked for this," the former hero whispers, as Elsa wraps her into a gentle hug.

"None of us asked for this," Elsa whispers, pressing her cheek to the side of Anna's head. "But we have to find a way to live with it, right?"

Anna feels the slight smile Elsa gives against her temple, but she can't find it in her heart to return it. "I think I need to find a better way to cope," Anna admits, and Elsa's arms tighten around her.

"I think we all do," Elsa murmurs, lulling from foot to foot in a way that has Anna blinking sleep from her brain.

"I don't wanna go under again," Anna slurs, trying to prevent herself from slumping in Elsa's arms. "It hurts too much."

"I'll protect you from your nightmares," Elsa says, kissing Anna's temple. "Just give all your fears to me for tonight. I promise you I'll keep your dreams safe."

"You can't promise that," Anna mutters, sagging.

Elsa lifts Anna into her arms and walks towards the living quarters, leaving their hot chocolates behind. "Maybe," Elsa relents, sending the redhead a reassuring smile, "but I can promise you that I'll try."

_Jennifer smiles, crouching in front of the corner Anna curled herself in and holds out her hand. "I know it's hard," she says, as gentle as a summer breeze, "but it gets better. You won't be okay all the time, I realize that, and when you're not I know I won't always be here to comfort you, but I can promise that I'll try." She wiggles her fingers, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement. "So come 'ere and let me comfort you."_

_Anna sniffs, wiping snot and tears from her face with her forearms. "How do you make it stop?" she asks, her face contorting in the effort to prohibit yet another onslaught of ugly weeping. She fists the front of her shirt with both hands, over her heart._

_Jennifer's eyes soften. "You make peace with the pain," she says, "and you look to the ray of hope on the horizon, and you believe in it; believe and trust in that hope with everything in your heart, and never let go." She extends her hand further. "If you can believe in nothing else right now," she whispers, "then believe in me."_

_Anna stares at Jennifer's hand, the throb of loss in her chest not lessening, but getting easier to handle. Swallowing the urge to wail her pain aloud, Anna reaches out and takes Jennifer's hand in hers. Jennifer beams, a smile bright enough to rival the sun splitting her face._

" _That's my girl," Jennifer coos, pulling Anna from the corner and wrapping her in a loving embrace. Jennifer runs her fingers through Anna's hair, airing a soft murmur of 'I love you' in Anna's ear._

_Tears well in Anna's eyes once more, and she holds Jennifer with all the force she can muster. "I love you, too," she croaks_.

Whatever tension Anna retained leaves her body, leaving a deep seated loneliness in its wake. She rests a hand over Elsa's, the one holding her side, and leans her head against the hero's bicep. "Okay," Anna says, relinquishing control. "I'll trust you."


	18. Pasts of Broken Heroes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my beta [Waela](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/5470087/Waela) (FFnet), and my newest beta [Those-Who Walk-Alone ](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2792061/)(FFnet); the author of [Omega](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10896760/1/Omega), which I highly recommend all of you read.
> 
> * * *

Two Years Ago 

Air puffs out of Ariel's gills harsh enough to create bubbles. She swallows once, twice; trying to shake the iron tang assaulting her senses. She stares at the body below her through blurred vision; her unblinking eyes reacting to the corrosive salt in the water.

Gritting her teeth, Ariel forces her shaking fingers to tighten around her trident and yank it free of flesh and bone. She kneels beside the floating dead weight, choking when her head enters the thick, dispersing plume of blood.

"I'm sorry, your highness," she whispers in hoarse Atlantian. "May the gods forgive me."

Vibrations ripple the water and Ariel stands, her feet weighted to the floor from the concentrated mass of her armour and trident. She turns to the door and waits, her stomach twisting into knots. She knows what's coming, what she's about to lose—what she's already lost—but still her chest aches, wishing it didn't have to end this way.

Her eyes sting once more and she blinks. _It's okay_ , she tries to convince herself. _I'm going to be okay_.

The door bursts open and two royal guards rush in, only to stop in their tracks. Their eyes widen, horror stretching their faces.

Ariel winces, but doesn't say anything. They have to blame her without question. They can't suspect that she's under orders, or the reason why those orders were given. They can't know that the crown prince was infected.

"How could you?" the first guard, Sebastian, cries.

Ariel's gills flare and she hefts her trident, a weapon too heavy to be carried by anyone without super strength. "Move," she orders, raising her free hand. "Or _I'll_ move you."

The other guard, Maxitatin—or Max, for short—frowns, his hand flexing on the hilt of his sword. "This isn't like you, Ariel," he says. "Something like this . . . you wouldn't—"

Ariel waves her hand, a dramatic effect to emphasize her powers as she slams the two guards into the wall with the surrounding water. She hears the cracks, she knows she hurt them, but she forces herself not to show her internal turmoil. "Apparently I would," she murmurs, walking to the door. She should be running. She should be getting the hell out of the castle; but these are her friends and she can't just abandon them. Not until she knows if they're okay.

Max grabs Ariel's wrist as she passes, his eyes wide and pleading. He glances to Sebastian—knocked out cold—before saying, "I don't know why you're doing this, but—"

Ariel pushes the shaft of her trident into Max's throat, trapping him against the wall. Max grits his teeth and reaches out, tapping his pointer and middle finger to Ariel's forehead. Ariel's eyes widen, her hold slacking. Max smiles.

"I know you," Max whispers. "And I . . . also know you well enough to not ask questions. I may never know why you've done this, or why you have to leave, but you're—" he cuts himself off with a sigh, distress edging into his eyes. "Just let me give you comfort before you go."

Ariel hesitates. Would lowering her guard be proof that this deed was not of her sole volition? She lowers her weapon before she can figure out an answer.

Max smiles and pulls Ariel into a hug. Their armours clank and don't mesh right, but neither of them care as they press the sides of their temples together. Ariel never felt more loved than she did right then.

"Thank you," Ariel whispers, cupping the back of Max's neck. "Take care of Prince Eric in my stead, okay? And don't let him—" _go into the black sea_. She grits her teeth. That's the forbidden area that houses the brain-eating spore that infected the crown prince. "Keep him safe," she says instead. "Protect him and don't let him get hurt. Promise me."

"I promise," Max says, pressing a hard kiss on Ariel's cheek. "Promise me you'll take care of yourself."

Ariel forces a smile. "I'll try," she says, using her powers to isolate the crown prince's body from the surrounding water and move it beside her. When Max frowns, Ariel punches him in the face, knocking him out. "Sorry, friend," she whispers, and bolts into the hallway.

If she wanted to get out unnoticed she could use her powers to minimize the vibrations from her movements, but she doesn't even expend the effort to lift her feet from her floor. With how heavy her armour and weapon is she'd need to use magic to swim like everyone else, which normally isn't a problem – but she has orders to fulfil.

So Ariel runs, her heavy footfalls sending shockwaves through the water in the castle. To anyone else running would be impossible; but she's weighed down and powerful enough to force her way through the water resistance.

Guards watch her approach with confusion, used to such strange behaviour from Ariel but never knowing what to do about it. It isn't until she passes and they see the bloodied body of their crown prince that they shout out in alarm.

Ariel's lips tighten into a firm line but she doesn't stop; she just runs and prays she can make peace with whatever happens next.

It's not until Ariel hops the second floor ledge into the main entryway that she's forced to stop.

With a heavy rolled landing, Ariel stays crouched with her trident at the ready; staring at the row of royal guards who block the main entrance. A main entrance that, for the first time in Ariel's memory, is shut. She twitches a crooked smile at the symbolism; one that makes her feel empty and alone inside, but no doubt appears bitter and cold.

"Explain yourself!" one of the guards roar, a man that's always reminded Ariel of a wrinkled piece of seaweed. Not because he's unkind or anything of the like, but because he has the air of someone who lost one too many things and let it turn him cynical. It makes sense when Ariel thinks about it, though; Old Seaweed—how Ariel likes referring to the man—fought in the war against the Dark Templar and lost many comrades.

Dark Templar used to be the leader of the—now—disbanded templar order of the castle. During one of his long-range patrols he went into the black sea and got infected. By the time anyone figured out what had happened, the spore had matured and multiplied, taking over the Dark Templar's body. War broke out and, while the templar lost and retreated into the black sea, the royal city of Atlantis had sustained losses of their own; Ariel's parents being among them.

"I am not obliged to provide an explanation," Ariel replies, staring her superior in the eye without waver. Old Seaweed frowns, his gaze flicking to Ariel's trident. Ariel knows what he's looking for and displays the weapon for him to examine. "What you're looking for doesn't and shall never exist," Ariel says.

Old Seaweed's eyes harden. "Words aren't the only matter in which you can betray your oaths, child," he scolds.

Ariel laughs. "I'm pretty sure I'm aware of that," she says, gesturing to the patch of isolated water beside her, muddied with enough blood to obscure the crown prince's body.

"I'm fairly certain you're not," Old Seaweed replies, pointing to the trident; whole and unblemished. "If you were, you wouldn't have let yourself be put in this predicament." Ariel frowns, but before she can question the older man asks, "Have you, or are you going to, betray this kingdom?"

Ariel clenches her teeth. She didn't expect to have to dodge this line of questioning so soon. "I have betrayed the trust of my friends," she replies, her grip tightening on her trident.

Old Seaweed stares at the mystic weapon with harsh, searching eyes. "I specified the kingdom in my question, not your friends," he says. "Does your redirection mean you are still acting in the benefit of the kingdom?"

Ariel's eyes harden. The easiest thing to do would be to answer 'no,' but with her trident acting as a makeshift lie detector, she can't risk such a move. She should have insisted on revoking her claim on the sacred weapon when the queen gave her orders, but the woman had been firm in her stance that Ariel's actions would be thrown into question had she forsaken the weapon.

So Ariel sighs and stands, her posture stiff with readiness. "I'm afraid there's no simple answer to that question," she says, which is true; no matter what she does, in the end she will be betraying someone.

Ariel's eyes widen, realizing what Old Seaweed was getting at, and why the queen was insistent that Ariel never return.

 _No matter what I do, I'm going to break one of my oaths_ , Ariel thinks, her gaze flicking to her trident. _Which means, if I return, everyone will know_.

"What the hell is going on here?" a clear, forceful voice booms; setting Ariel's heart aflutter. Ariel glances to the second floor balcony, where the queen glares down at the commotion.

Ariel swallows, stopping any spoken affection before they can surface, but it doesn't stop the memories.

" _Your majesty!" Ariel cries, rocking against the queen's mouth. The queen hums, a delighted sparkle in her eyes. Ariel moans and writhes, her back arching in the empty water in the middle of the royal's bedroom. "Your majesty, please," Ariel begs, her muscles twitching and shaking._

_The queen chuckles and kisses the inside of Ariel's thigh, moving her fingers in to replace her mouth. "You're adorable," the queen purrs, looking Ariel in the eye with pure adoration._

_Ariel convulses, the vocal and physical praise pushing her over the edge. "Oh gods," she groans, somehow managing to press a pointer and middle finger against the queen's forehead through the uncooperative nature of her body._

_Through the ringing in her ears, Ariel hears the queen's gentle laughter and feels the royal's touch on her own forehead. A pleased spark shoots down Ariel's spine and she cries out, going over the edge once more._

" _Oh, Ariel," the queen chortles, wrapping her free arm around Ariel's torso and holding her tight. "I love you," she whispers, pressing her fingers harder into Ariel's forehead. "Please remember that."_

"I killed your eldest son," Ariel replies, the spoken reality icing any physical expression of love her body was tempted to enact. She may not be able to lie through actions or words, but she can make herself appear to be as heartless as her oaths allow.

Pain flares over the queen's face, and it's almost enough to make Ariel whimper and fall to her knees. To keep her legs from buckling, Ariel strengthens the water around her lower half; trying to remind herself that the queen has a role to play just like herself.

"Will you tell the king?" Ariel asks, her jaw muscles twitching. The queen shares a knowing look with her, discerning what Ariel is really asking.

"I can't say it'll be necessary with the commotion you caused," the queen replies, her gaze flicking over the oval of bloodied water.

Ariel feels her eyes stinging once more, and her free hand clenches. The king won't be told the truth, which makes sense, but the reality hurts more than Ariel anticipated.

"You say that like I plan to stick around long enough for him to see me," Ariel says, with an empty smile that drains the blood from the queen's face.

"Ariel—" the queen tries, but Ariel flicks her wrist, slamming the queen into the railing with enough force to break it. As royal guards rush to aide their monarch, Ariel storms the front doors. Old Seaweed and the others hold their ground, but against someone with complete control over water—their air, their life—they didn't stand a chance.

Ariel crashes through the double doors, sending debris flying over the grand courtyard. Ariel continues to run, pushing everyone out of the way as she bolts along the decorative pathways no one save herself has ever used. She hears her friends shout after her, and it digs at her heart more than she thought it would; if she gave herself leave to think of this at all.

So through the courtyard she runs, through the city streets. It's only when she reaches the main city gates that she uses her powers to lift her feet from the ground and propel her far away from the kingdom she loves.

Ariel glances at the bloodied oval she keeps contained behind her, wondering if it was worth it, then sighs. Of course it was worth it. What is her life in the midst of horror the crown prince could have erected should the spore be allowed to mature?

At the edge of the black sea, a day's trip in normal traveling conditions, Ariel pulls herself to a halt. Her hands tighten into fists.

"I'm so sorry it's come to this, your highness," Ariel grits, using her powers to rip the crown prince's body into chunks and whipping them deep into the forbidden darkness. She tries not to look, but she knows she can't risk taking her eyes off the ominous, murky water the spores and Dark Templar call their home.

When the last piece is tossed, Ariel allows herself to recognize the burning in her chest; allows herself to realize she's alone. Emotionally, at least.

"Don't talk to me," Ariel grits, sensing Dark Templar's presence rather than seeing him or the chilling red glow of his eyes.

Dark Templar rumbles a chuckle that sets Ariel's teeth on edge. "I wouldn't dream of it, love," the man says, his eyes blinking open in the darkness. "I would have preferred my other plans over this, but it works just as well." He floats forward, a crooked smile on his face. "Where do you plan to go? A treason such as this isn't something anyone on this planet can ignore, regardless of your powers."

Ariel shrugs. "There's a land settlement a couple weeks north," she says.

Dark Templar raises an eyebrow. "You'd freeze within minutes of going surface-side," he deadpans. "Besides, I doubt that beast nest can count as a 'settlement.'" He grins and holds out his hand, still well within the confines of the black sea. "Why don't you stay here?"

Ariel raises an eyebrow. "How stupid do you think I am?" she asks.

Dark Templar barks a surprised laugh. "I think you're alone and in mourning," he retorts. "You'll be seeking comfort, but there'll be no one to go to." The templar's eyes flash, the red illuminating for an uncomfortable second that has Ariel readying her trident. "No one in our race can manage alone without a spore stuck inside their head," Dark Templar continues, tapping his temple. "So where do you think you'll go when your self-worth starts dropping and there's no one around to help you replenish it? When you start feeling unloved and depressed but there's no one to hold you? Physical affection is _everything_ to our race," he spits, like a curse, "and without it you'll kill yourself. At least with me you'll have company."

"What good is company if they don't care?" Ariel counters. "If I stick with you, it'd be the same as dying alone."

Dark Templar's lip twitches, but his face betrays nothing more as he lowers his hand. "This would be there part where I force you to comply," he says, and grins. "But I'll be honest, I'm not keen on taking on a meta in their home front."

Ariel quirks her head. "Meta?" she questions.

Dark Templar laughs, dark and ominous. "Yes," he rumbles, "that's what off-worlders call beings with extraordinary abilities. I've heard quite some tall tales of folk who can control minds, dreams, death, animals, war, and fire, among others. Some are great forces of overbearing might, while others are as noteworthy as plankton."

Ariel frowns. She's never heard of this before. "How do you know this?" she asks.

Ripples rumble through the water being Dark Templar in a show of force that makes Ariel's eyes widen.

A slow grin curls over Dark Templar's lips. "I'm a very convincing person," he says, his eyes flashing once more.

From behind Dark Templar zips a construct of metal, settling itself in the waters behind Ariel. An action, Ariel notes, that doesn't exactly sit well with the templar. Ariel, on the other hand, takes immense pleasure watching the spores the construct threw into the open ocean shrivel and die.

"This is a ship," Dark Templar explains, swimming out of the black sea and laying a hand on the foreign invention. "It was abandoned on our planet years ago – in fact, it was the reason I had traversed into the black sea to begin with." He smiles. "No one ever tells you that, do they?"

Ariel raises an eyebrow. That _is_ knowledge she's privy to – but the information was provided to the king and queen _after_ Dark Templar had returned from the black sea and, as such, was later deemed an elaborate ruse to divert the kingdom's attention. "They did," Ariel corrects, "but no one assumed it was true."

Dark Templar cackles. "I'm not surprised," he says, and gestures to the ship with his free hand. "If you stay with me, I'll let you see the inside."

Ariel glances at the ship, getting the distinct impression that it does whatever it wants, no matter who is tapping on the outside. "As tempting as that sounds," she says, "I would rather risk freezing solid surface-side than stay here with you." She leaves out how unnerved she is by the mere idea of being this close to the black sea, let alone the chilling reality of it.

"Don't you think this world needs you alive rather than dead?" Dark Templar asks, a coiled smile on his lips. The hatch on the underside of the ship hisses open. The templar turns to the opening and only barely contains his frown. "Oh well, I suppose," he murmurs, distracted. He swims to the opening and pokes his head in.

Ariel half expects a comment of how privileged he is, until the hatch snaps closed and cuts his head off.

"Oh, gross," Ariel murmurs, her lip curling as Dark Templar's headless body floats away from the ship. A couple seconds later the hatch reopens, ejecting the man's head. "I'll be honest," Ariel murmurs, watching the head bobble against the ship's hull, "that isn't how I expected you to go."

The ship hums and shifts and, if Ariel didn't know any better, she'd suspect it was trying to coax her inside.

"No offense," Ariel says, "but I'd rather keep my head attached."

The ship hums once more, and Ariel sighs. What's the harm, really? Is there a difference between freezing to death or being executed? Either way she dies alone.

"Well," Ariel says, positioning herself under the hole, "at least I have an advantage Dark Templar didn't." In a flash of power Ariel propels herself into the ship, becoming airborne for a disorienting second before her feet connect with the closed hatch, the metal streaked with blood.

Ariel holds out her free hand and wiggles her fingers. There's no water ripples, no force of movement . . . no water, besides what drips off her fingers. She tries to breathe but her gills hold fast to her neck. Before she can conjure water to elevate the problem, she takes a panicked breath through her mouth and—

Ariel coughs, not used to taking in so much oxygen at once. "This is new," she chokes, her vision blurring as a liquid fills her eyes. She pokes it as it falls down her cheek and licks it. "Salt water?" she murmurs, her eyebrows furrowing. This is a strange development.

On the far end of the ship _something_ brightens, and on its surface are the words, " _Hello, Ariel Esquil'ar. I am the pilot of AA Gate Keeper; the ship in which you stand. I have been monitoring the situation here on Trideum for a long time, and seek to aid you in your plight. If you so desire, I can transport you to another planet_."

With a frown, Ariel walks to the screen; entering a room full of lights, buttons, levers and two chairs. "I don't understand," she says, almost jumping with the way her full voice sounds in this air-filled environment.

" _I found a good planet-match for you in the Sol system_ ," the AI writes. " _It's a humble abide called Earth. You will need to learn a new language to be understood there, but they have ocean and warm land galore – and more people to interact with than you could ever dream of_."

Ariel's eyes widen. "I won't have to be alone?" she asks, her chest aching with the possibility.

" _No, you will not_ ," the AI confirms. " _Also on Earth are other metas like yourself, who would be more than willing to accept and train you, should you be willing to help them_."

"Yes!" Ariel shouts, noting how strange Atlantian sounds without water as the transmitter. "A thousand times, yes!"

" _Be warned, there is a catch_ ," the AI writes, and Ariel feels herself deflate.

"Of course there is," Ariel sighs, running the fingers of her free hand through her hair. She frowns when she finds it flat to her scalp and armour instead of floating behind her.

" _On this planet is a particular troubled soul_ ," the AI writes. " _This troubled soul is a meta who's lost their way and rejects help that is offered to them. They blame themselves for the events of their past, and seeks to right those wrongs on their own terms, no matter who gets hurt in the process. This meta is a good person who's been lost to grief and despair, and while their actions come across as cruel, they have never killed the hero metas who oppose them_.

" _This meta, for lack of an appropriate translation, will be your home_ ," the AI writes. " _If you love and care for them, they will love and protect you with unrestrained ferocity. The catch is figuring out who this person is for yourself, making choices about them for yourself, and opening their heart to accept you. If you accept this reality, I will teach you this meta's native language while on route to Earth_."

Ariel fiddles with her trident, trying to subdue the fluttering in her stomach. "Will they be my mate?" she asks, a breathless quality to her voice.

"' _Mate' and 'home' imply two different things_ ," the AI writes. " _While it is possible for this meta to become your mate, they will be your home first and foremost. Anything more than that, while a distinct possibility, should not be expected_."

Ariel opens her mouth to respond when something catches her eye, stealing the breath from her lungs.

Ariel stares at her trident; at the barely visible crack running through the base of one of the shorter spokes. She closes her eyes and hangs her head, taking a deep breath. To get this trident she had to make four oaths, representing each of the three points and the spearhead adorning the bottom. To keep the trident whole and unbroken, she needs to maintain those oaths.

"I pledge to be honourable," Ariel murmurs like a worn-out prayer, pressing her forehead against the cold shaft of her trident. "I promise that I shall be just, and true to myself." Her fingers tighten into white-knuckle grips against the unrelenting metal. "And I swear I will be true to others. I _will_."

The crack will never repair itself no matter how strong Ariel keeps her will from here on out, but she can keep her oaths alive within her mind. And, if she can help it, she will protect that one spoke from physical damage.

After a calming breath Ariel raises her head and turns to the screen. "I would like to learn this meta's language and travel to their home world," she says, "but can we start after I rest?"

" _Of course_ ," the AI writes. " _Before you go, however, please take this_." A small section of the control panel shifts aside and, in its place, a platform baring a misshapen green stone raises. " _This is a 'home gem,'_ " the AI explains. " _It will provide you with the love and assurance associated with a good home full of friends or family, but it won't provide you with the physical comfort your species depends on for emotional security. I'm hoping it will help make this trip manageable for you_."

Ariel reaches out with a hesitant hand, but any reservation she might have had fades when her fingertips graze the smooth surface. With an unconscious purr rumbling at the back of her throat, Ariel scoops the stone into her palm and cradles it against her chest. Disembodied love warms her heart, and Ariel smiles, salty water welling her eyes.

"Thank you," Ariel says. " _Thank you_ , uh—" she hesitates. "I'm sorry, what's your name?"

" _Chel_ ," the AI writes. " _My name is Chel_."

* * *

Present Day 

Ariel stares at her bedroom ceiling, debating whether or not she should get out of bed. She thumbs the home gem where it rests on her stomach; a comforting object she thought would be a memento by now instead of a necessity.

On one hand she wants to go to Anna and find peace in the physical comfort she's been craving, but Ariel isn't so naive as to think Anna can, or _would_ want to hold her forever. And, out of the sanctuary of Anna's arms, Ariel will have to deal with everyone else.

Ariel sighs, draping an arm over her eyes. As much as she would love to hide away and not face the heroes who have been unintentionally carving her heart out, she knows deviating from her schedule would raise suspicion. At any other time she might not have cared so much, but with multiple leaguers gunning for Anna's head, Ariel has to make sure nothing she does can be blamed on her fragile counterpart.

With a grunt Ariel forces herself to sit, with the gem in one hand and her head in the other.

Humans weren't supposed to be like this. Being on Earth wasn't supposed to hurt this much. While Ariel has long since accepted this fate as her punishment for her actions on Trideum, she can't stop herself from loving her teammates, and she can't stop herself from feeling like her intestines are being pulled out of her every time they tell her not to touch them.

Ariel's chest tightens to the point where she feels like she's suffocating, and she starts crying. Her pain is silent and unseen by all but Calhoun, but the AI doesn't interfere in Ariel's strife, because she knows the one thing Ariel needs is the one thing she can't provide.

Her league-issued phone buzzes on the bedside table, and while Ariel is tempted to throw it across the room, she's addicted to the distant interaction it gives her, even if it hurts.

Transferring the home gem to her other hand, Ariel grabs and unlocks her phone. On it is a daily, self-made notification simply saying, 'Good morning, self!' with an added smiley face that Ariel returns on instinct.

"Morning," Ariel murmurs, the warm tones renewing in her voice. She cracks a small smile and cancels the notification. No need to wear it out.

 _Knock knock_.

Ariel's muscles jump, excitement pulsing through her blood fast enough to get her high. With a bound the meta is throwing open her door, her eyes glittering with glee and her very, very naked body shivering with pent up energy.

"Oh Jesus!" Mulan cries, throwing her hands over her eyes and turning her head.

"Mulan!" Ariel cheers, wrapping the oriental in an unwelcome hug. In the shorter woman's ear, Ariel asks, "Do you want to hang out with me today? That's why you're here, right?"

"Please put on clothes," Mulan chokes, her shoulders hitching to her ears.

Ariel narrows her eyes. "Will you explain what's going on while I do?" she asks.

"If you shut your door, yes," Mulan agrees.

Ariel purses her lips, pretending to think long and hard over the issue. "I guess that's acceptable," she says, releasing her captive and re-entering her room, but only half closes the door. "So what's up?" she asks, rummaging through her clothes for an acceptable pair of under and outer garments.

"Huh? Oh," Mulan stutters, recollecting her cool, "Rapunzel wants to 'advance her rudimentary fighting skills' but I have a meeting with Elsa right now and, after that, the mission she assigns me. So, out of all the remaining options here at base I'd like you to be Rapunzel's trainer; not only because you have time, but because everyone else has literally zero chill."

Ariel laughs, loud and boisterous. "Skill didn't play a factor in your decision?" she asks, grabbing the articles of clothes she wants to wear in a messy ball between her hands. She summons a cube of water, removes her hands, shakes the shit out of her dirty clothes until all she can see in the water is millions of tiny bubbles, and waves the water away. She catches the clothes as they fall, grinning at the dryness of them. She's getting good at this.

"It was a contest between Merida, Megara, Elsa and you," Mulan deadpans. "And, as useful as the other three are, Merida has no patience, Megara has little restraint, and Elsa is a tad too stressed right now."

Ariel raises an eyebrow, shimmying into her undergarments. "What about Jane?" she questions. "She was trained by the old elites like yourself, and she has _some_ chill." She frowns, squeezing into a royal purple athletic t-shirt that strains against her copious amounts of muscle. "Don't tell me those two are hissing at each other again."

"I prefer to think of it more like squawking," Mulan replies, a smile in her voice. "But no, they're not; Jane's my partner for whatever mission I'm going on."

"So you didn't pick her because she isn't available?" Ariel asks, pulling on a pair of dark gray cargo pants and topping off her look with fuzzy pink slippers.

"Do _you_ want Jane to train Rapunzel?" Mulan retorts.

Ariel hums. "Good point," she relents, throwing her cell phone in her pocket and opening her door. "So where do I find my adorable student?"

Mulan stares, her gaze lingering at Ariel's feet. She opens her mouth, pauses, and releases a slow breath of air. "Huh," Mulan huffs, her eyes meeting Ariel's once more. "Training room five."

Ariel grins, wiggling her toes against the soft comfort of her slippers. "In payment do I get a hug?" she asks, then points an accusing finger. "Short ones don't count."

Mulan quirks a half smile. "I don't have time for the length you want," she says, "but I can do, say, twenty seconds?"

"Done!" Ariel accepts, already wrapped around Mulan like an octopus. A purr rumbles in the meta-alien's throat, feeling a trickle of life flowing into the hollowed cavity in her chest.

Mulan chuckles, resting her nose on Ariel's shoulder. "You're a strange fish," she whispers, her laced fingers resting against Ariel's lower back.

Ariel doesn't respond, focusing instead on the contact that makes her believe she can be whole again. But all too soon Mulan is pulling away, and Ariel fights herself to allow it, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from wailing.

"Be good while I'm away," Mulan says, patting Ariel on the shoulder with a well meaning smile. It drives a spear in Ariel's gut.

"But that's no fun!" Ariel laughs, covering her pain in the only way she knows how.

Mulan smirks. "Get to training room five," she says, a playful sass in her voice as she backs into the nearest shadow. "Your student's waiting."

Like that Mulan's gone, leaving Ariel alone once more.

"That's— yeah, okay," Ariel utters, rubbing her bicep in a futile effort to erase in the itch inside her bones. She glances into her room, debating whether she should bring her armour or trident—her only rich reminders of love and care—but decides better of it. Instead she uses her powers to grab the home gem she'd dropped at some point, and closes her door. When she hears the automated lock, she starts walking the halls that remind her of rejection and hopelessness.

Ariel's hands clench into fists, her jaw clamping shut to keep herself from begging for help – from telling her friends that she's _not_ okay; that she has severe depression and it's getting worse.

Along the way Ariel hears a commotion in a side room and pauses, curiosity getting the better of her. She inches closer, in time to hear:

"Els— yeah, okay, I get why you did it, but you didn't have to _sleep with her_ for god's sake!" the woman—Belle, Ariel recognizes—hisses. "Forgetting all the shit none of us know about her past, do you even think it's healthy getting involved with her? Anna's mental state is about as secure as glass piping dangling above a rock with dental floss."

"Firstly, sleeping in the same bed is not the same as having sex," Elsa retorts, a harsh edge to her tone. "Secondly, I think what Anna needs is to build a secure foundation again – something she lost four years ago and never got back."

"Just—" Belle tries to argue.

"Arson murdered Anna's fiancée in front of her, did you know that?" Elsa snaps. Silence greets her, and Ariel knows Belle is thinking about the irony that the two are the same person. "Yeah," Elsa spits, misinterpreting the lack of response, "Anna fell into a panic attack when she told me last night. Now I don't know what you have against her and, honestly, I don't care. She broke apart in my arms and through the night I had to soothe her sleeping mind from night terrors as she writhed, and cried, and begged for it to stop. I can't help but care for her because she's hurting, just like we're hurting, and I refuse to stand by and accept that that's okay."

After a couple awkward seconds, Belle murmurs, "I'm not saying it's not okay to care about her, I'm saying you should allow for the very real possibility that there are elements of Anna's past that you aren't going to like. All the old elites had questionable aspects of their reputations; aspects they kept hidden with an iron fist because they knew they wouldn't be taken well by the public."

"I'm not the public," Elsa retorts. "And Anna wasn't an elite."

"She _helped_ the elites," Belle stresses. "So I find it hard to believe that the elites didn't make Anna do a dirty task or two. Or, perhaps, her secrets lay in the scandalous knowledge she's collected over the years of working here – knowledge that could have done _so much good_ or _so much bad_ if people knew, and we're flying blind to all of it." She sighs. "I'm just— I'm just trying to highlight the possibility that the full cause of Anna's trauma might not be because of the shit that's been slammed on her plate, but the shit she's slammed onto others."

For a long moment Elsa doesn't respond, but then she's sighs. "Okay fine – _fine_ , I'll keep it in mind," she relents. "Now let's get to the meeting before Mulan or Jane hunt us down."

Ariel starts walking once more, pausing in stride when she sees the two as if she hadn't just been eavesdropping on them, and grins. "Hey!" she greets, offering a handshake.

Belle narrows her eyes at the offending extension and Elsa, knowing better but too tired to react, twitches a small smile.

"Sorry," Elsa apologizes, "I don't have time to untangle myself from whatever odd hug you manage to get me in."

Ariel grins wider and lowers her hand – understanding but hurting all the same. "Yeah, I know," she says, jerking her thumb in the general direction of her room. "Mulan told me about the impending mission brief after I flashed her."

Elsa's eyebrows shoot into her hairline. "You— what?" she asks, flabbergasted.

"At least it's not just me you do it to," Belle whispers, a small smirk quirking her lips.

"I sleep naked, it's a well known fact," Ariel says to Elsa, then turns to Belle. "So yeah, no, you're not the only one."

Elsa scratches her neck. "There are such things as robes," she says.

"Those don't work," Belle intercedes. "Trust me."

Ariel chortles. "Hey, I tried in that case – that's gotta count for something," she says.

Belle huffs, but doesn't respond. Elsa smiles, swatting Belle's arm with mischief sparkling in her eyes. "Come on," Elsa says, passing Ariel. "I have to hear about this."

"No, you really don't," Belle snaps, following after the league's official leader. "Besides," she grumbles, "you technically already have. Remember, on your first day back?"

Ariel stands there watching her friend's retreating backs, waiting for the 'later!' she knows she won't get. "That's just—" Ariel murmurs, her throat constricting. _That's just sad_.

Forcing her mind blank, Ariel continues to her original destination. It doesn't stop the pressure from building behind her eyes or the aching of her chest, but it prevents her from breaking down. She sheathes a hand in one of her pant pockets, a puff of air exiting her lungs as her fingers wrap around the home gem. One minute at a time, she reminds herself; because taking life one day at a time is too much.

She walks in a daze, ignoring the way Merida stalks the base like she's on a hunt when they pass by each other, even though Ariel knows she should be more concerned. The water meta doesn't even sound her customary warning about how she'll kill Merida should the insane human fatally harm anyone inside the base.

 _It wasn't supposed to be like this_ , Ariel thinks, her grip tightening on the home gem like it can ground her scattering sanity.

"There you are," a familiar voice calls, and Ariel looks towards the sound.

"Punzie!" Ariel coos, a grin splitting her lips. She notes the bags under the healer's eyes and the knotted muscles in her shoulders, and the way her hands twitch and flex as she paces in front of the training room entrance. "Sorry," Ariel apologizes, wrapping Rapunzel in a brief hug that does them both equal damage as it does good. "Mulan caught me in a state of undress," Ariel explains, releasing Rapunzel and walking into the training room. The automatic doors—controlled by Calhoun—open and close as the pair step inside.

Rapunzel smiles, but there's a strain in it. "I'm sure that went over well," she says, humouring the turn in conversation.

"It did until I shoved my boobs into her face," Ariel agrees, grinning at the laugh she startles out of the other meta. "Now take off anything you don't want to have on during training, and take everything out of your pockets," she instructs, walking to the protected cubbies just inside the doorway. When a panel opens she sets her phone, slippers and gem inside, hesitating for an instant before retracting her hand from her home away from home. The panel closes and her superhero symbol, a trident, appears in soft blue lines.

"Okay," Ariel says, turning to Rapunzel, "now we—" Ariel hesitates, her eyes drawn to the red and white symbol glowing on her friend's panel – one the marine alien's never seen before. Ariel raises an eyebrow at her friend, who's face is slack with disbelief. "Something you want to tell me?" she asks, keeping her tone as curious and understanding as possible.

"I-I—" Rapunzel stutters, staring at the overlapping red and white medical crosses where her flower symbol should be residing instead. "I've been wanting to update my superhero persona to something less childish," she admits after a delay, her features twisting. "I figured out the symbol easy enough, but I wanted a new name and a new outfit to go with it, ya know? So I figured out what I wanted to look like and gave the blueprint to Calhoun to outsource. The new costume came in today—it looks amazing—but I still haven't figured out a name. I've narrowed the options down to Paramedic and Double Cross, but the first is an actual profession and the second sounds too villain-y."

 _Oh, that's all?_ Ariel wonders with a smile, half expecting to hear a secret as shocking as Anna being Arson. "Why not Paracross?" she suggests, before her eyes light up. "Medic Cross!" she cries. "No, wait; Crisscross. Oh, no! Mercy Cross!"

Rapunzel laughs. "You're not very good at this, are you?" she asks, the tension releasing from her shoulders.

Ariel pouts. "Creating a name from a symbol isn't as easy as creating a symbol from a name," she defends. She tilts her head. "Unless you choose a name based on your meta abilities instead, like Hygeia—a Greek deity—or, if you want to go Norse deities, Eir. You wouldn't have to change your new symbol either, because the deities represent health the same way that a medical cross does."

"That's— huh," Rapunzel airs, rubbing her neck. "I like that."

"Now, if you don't mind me asking," Ariel says, walking to the middle of the training arena, "why did you feel as if your current superhero identity wasn't good enough?"

Rapunzel winces but follows the older meta onto the floor. "I came up with Golden Flower as a child," she admits, pressing the tip of her pointer finger into the pad of her thumb. "It's a stupid reason, I know, but honestly"—she sighs—"all my memories of being Golden Flower are riddled in oppression, helplessness and horrors I couldn't prevent nor heal. I'm hoping I can get a fresh start with a new, well, everything."

Ariel stares. "And if this new beginning ends as bitter as the last?" she asks, not solely for her friend's benefit this time.

Rapunzel waves her hands in useless gestures. "Then I guess I'll deal with it," she says, "or maybe I'll change it again or maybe I'll revert back to what I had before; I don't know, Ariel." She runs her fingers through her short, choppy brown hair. "All I know is that what I have right now makes me sick to my stomach."

 _Anna doesn't change her persona even though being Arson makes her physically ill_ , Ariel wants to say, but thinks better of it. "Then I'll do my best to help you," she says instead. "What are you trained in right now?"

"Some hand-to hand and dagger technique, but mainly longer-distance stuff like pistols and rifles," Rapunzel replies. "I tried learning bow and arrow, but I don't have the knack for it."

Ariel nods and holds out her hand in an arm-wrestle position. "Show me your level of super strength," she instructs. Rapunzel obeys, and succeeds in moving Ariel's arm back and forth, but little else. Ariel hums, and asks, "What will your new suit weigh, and what will it be equipped with?"

Beside them a hologram appears, showing the new uniform in startling detail – not that Ariel should be surprised, the hologram projectors in the training rooms are a thousand times better than the ones found throughout the rest of the base.

The projected uniform has a full, air-tight face mask with well hidden oxygen filters, coloured gray with Rapunzel's new two cross symbol painted boldly across the middle, concealing the strip of tinted glass over the eyes. The torso is covered in small, overlapping pieces of metal made to look like hard leather, covered with solid steel—or a harder metal, even—over the forearms, biceps, shoulders, chest, and back. Her lower half is covered in much the same way – first with 'metal leather' and topped with metal plates over her thighs and shins, while the feet are covered with military-style boots plated in metal. The colour scheme of the whole ensemble matches the mask – a dark-ish gray painted with red and white in a pattern pleasing to the eye.

Attached to the metal on the back is a sleek device that has nine one-way ports; eight along the rim and one smack in the middle. On the lower back is a small magnetic plate, holding a customized collapsible rifle in place. On both biceps are sheathed daggers. Around the waist is a tall, thin metal belt housing a variety of ammunition, and on either thigh are high calibre pistols.

"What's that?" Ariel asks, pointing to the back device.

"A booster pack," Rapunzel says, flushing. "It can be used as a jet pack for a couple of seconds if need be, but the primary function is to increase dodging mobility."

"It looks heavy," Ariel observes, with a frown.

"It adds an extra twenty pounds to the total weight of the suit," Calhoun supplies, "and it's controlled through mental synchronization like—and forgive me for the comparison—the ports on Arson's mask." Rapunzel winces, but doesn't interrupt. "I suggest leaving this addition off until you train your mind in this field – otherwise the system can be unreliable and subject to whim thoughts."

"I agree," Ariel says, eying the weapons. "I also suggest taking off the pistols and rifle until you're properly trained in them. Otherwise you'll have enemies thinking your skills are higher than they are and taking you out. Remember," she stresses, when Rapunzel moves to argue, "your primary role is a healer, and you don't want to attract unnecessary attention by giving off the impression that you're taking on an active combat role."

"What about the daggers then?" Rapunzel asks, crossing her arms over her chest in a protective manner Ariel knows all too well.

"You have daggers on your current uniform as a precaution and no one thinks twice about it, so they're fine," Ariel assures. She waves at the new suit. "My goal here is making the enemy believe the name and uniform upgrade are aesthetic choices and nothing more. I know that's not what you want, but it will keep you in relative safety while you hone your skills and, when you're finally ready to join the fight, you'll be sorely underestimated." She looks Rapunzel in the eye. "Is that okay?"

Rapunzel's arms relax. "Yeah, that's fine," she agrees. She nods to the uniform. "With those gone it'll make this thing only fifteen pounds heavier than the uniform I already wear, so the transition won't take too long to get accustomed to."

"Good," Ariel approves. "You'll have to train in it before any actual field work, of course, but until then we'll work on essential skills." She points to Rapunzel's feet. "Your combat strength will probably be in agility," she says. "There are a lot of metas who are stronger than you, and you can afford to let them hit or grab hold of you. Luckily for this training exercise, _I_ am one of those metas." She grins. "Dodge me."

Rapunzel blinks. "Wait, wha— ahie-e-e!" she screams, leaping out of the way as Ariel lunges. "What the hell!" Rapunzel cries, spinning, twisting and outright sprinting to stay out of Ariel's reach.

"You're pretty good at this!" Ariel laughs. "Are you ready for me to crank up the pressure?"

"No!" Rapunzel shouts, sliding between Ariel's legs, rolling to her feet and dodging once more when Ariel spins and slams her hand into the spot Rapunzel once was.

"Well too bad," Ariel chortles. With a whoop, Ariel bolts forward and tackles Rapunzel to the ground. "I win," the water meta boosts, a shit-eating grin on her lips as she pins the poor healer against her chest.

"Oh my fucking god," Rapunzel wheezes, wiggling in a wasted effort to free herself. "You're punishing me for all the times I didn't hug you, aren't you?"

"No," Ariel says, with a sneaky grin Rapunzel can't see. "But I can't say I'm not pleased with how this is turning out. So!" she says, releasing her friend. "The rules are changing – every time I capture you I'll squeeze you for longer periods of time. So if you don't want to suffer my rogue affections you better learn the ways of contortion pretty damn fast."

An hour passes this way, and Ariel can admit she's never been more pleased by a training exercise.

"Your purring sounds so smug," Rapunzel grumbles, her voice muffled against Ariel's chest.

Ariel giggles, unable to stop it; nor wanting to stop it. This is the closest the marine alien has gotten to feeling whole in two years, and she isn't going to let the grumpy human in her arms ruin it for her.

Rapunzel stopped trying to fight Ariel's koala hold after the first ten captures, the exhausted healer instead relaxing into the coiled muscle that contained her and, after a while, relished the break it afforded her.

 _That's right_ , Ariel thinks, with a silly grin, _I'll trick you all into reciprocating my affections_.

"I think I'm done for the day," Rapunzel murmurs, her sore body limp against Ariel's.

Ariel laughs. "Okay," she relents, sitting up with Rapunzel cradled in her arms. "Think you have the strength to walk?"

Rapunzel huffs a breathless laugh. "I barely have the energy to stay awake, let alone do anything else," she says.

Ariel's purring comes back with a vengeance, her pupils dilating like a pleased cat at the realization that Rapunzel wants her; _needs_ her physical assistance. "This is so nice," Ariel hums.

Rapunzel twitches a half-asleep smile. "You are a strange fish," she mumbles, her eyelids struggling to stay open.

"I like to think I'm a fish-puma mix," Ariel says, smiling when the only answer she receives is a soft snore.

The door opens, revealing Anna kicking at the floor on the other side. When the villain notices the change she blinks and looks into the room, her eyes losing their hard edge when they settle on Ariel. "Hey," she says, walking towards the pair.

Ariel raises an eyebrow. "How long were you out there?" she asks.

"A couple minutes," Anna says, stuffing her hands in her pockets and rocking to her heels. "When the mission brief ended Elsa asked me to update you on the situation, but you were in training so I just ambled about until Calhoun told me you were almost done." She glances to Rapunzel, the corners of her lips stiffening.

"So what's the status?" Ariel asks, trying to distract her friend from the woman in her arms.

Anna sucks in a deep breath, as if re-realizing where she was. "Belle, Jane, and Mulan have been tasked with locating Sandman," she says, with a small shrug. "I was talking with Elsa this morning about how the effects of tainted hellfire smoke can be loosely translated to a vivid dream; so, theoretically, a dream weaver of the right calibre could replicate the same effect."

"As clever as that is," Ariel says, "do either of you think it's wise to go after Sandman without Ezzy? Her mental abilities are the only safe bet the league has against mind-manipulators."

Anna cracks a smile and, for a second, it almost reaches her eyes. "The team needs to _locate_ Sandman, not capture her," she says. "Elsa already agreed to wait for Esmeralda's return before attempting an assault, but it'd be hard to do that either way if we don't even know where Sandman is."

"And if she's not on this planet?" Ariel poses.

"She is," Anna assures, without a hint of doubt. Ariel gives her a look, and Anna cracks a sheepish smile. "One of my contacts is a meta-tracker," the villain reveals, with a reminiscent smile. "She's an AI I inherited from Athena. She ignores me and does whatever the fuck she wants ninety-nine percent of the time, but if I need help she'll come to my aid." Anna laughs, but Ariel questions if it's real. "She stalks me like every other meta on her radar, which I guess is useful, but it's also . . ." Anna trails off, thinking. "When I think of her it's like you looking at picture of the old elites; you can see them and you know what they were like, but you don't know what they were doing or what they were planning or _if_ they were planning. Sorry," she sighs, "this isn't your problem."

"My condition isn't your problem but you still express an interest in helping," Ariel says. "Is it not okay for me to express an interest in you in turn?"

Anna smiles, but it's strained. "You already know you can, it's just—" she sighs, interlocking her fingers behind her neck and pressing her elbows together in front of her. "My life and my past are a lot more complicated than I think you give it credit for, and a lot of elements of it don't make much sense unless you know the whole picture."

Ariel straightens her back. "Then show me the whole picture," she says, her insides fluttering.

For a moment Anna only stares, and then she rubs the back of her head. "Well, I guess—" she cuts herself off and pulls out her phone. She taps something and presses it against her ear. "Hey, can you teleport Rapunzel and her belongings to her room here at the Protector base so I can be alone with Ariel?" A couple seconds pass, and then Rapunzel is gone. Ariel jerks back, and Anna twitches a nervous smile. "Thanks," Anna says. "Oh, and can you leave her an anonymous text with a picture of her new symbol and the words 'Cross Roads'? That'd be great, thanks," she says, hanging up before giving the other person a chance to respond.

Questions fire through Ariel's head at once and try to jam themselves out of her mouth at the same time. It comes out sounding like a disjointed block of random noise.

Anna grins, the gesture putting a dull spark back into her eyes. "I saw the cross symbol on one of the cubbies on the way in and put two and two together," she explains, then wiggles her phone. "And that was my AI; the one Athena harvested her dormant power of teleportation into and, yeah, the same AI that pretends I don't exist half the time." She tilts her head to the ceiling. "Can you lock this room until we're done here, Calhoun?"

"Not until you tell me how the _fuck_ an AI has access to my base," Calhoun snaps, and Anna blinks.

"Wow, you, swearing? Huh," Anna utters, then clears her throat. "Well my AI's circuitry is protected with hellfire smoke, same as yours, and she also has elite level access because, well, she has permission from both me and Athena from before your installation."

"This is so cool," Ariel airs, her crossed legs bouncing up and down.

" _Not_ cool!" Calhoun retorts. "You mean to tell me that an AI you don't have full control over has the capability of snatching the leaguers out from under my nose? Why isn't _she_ under suspicion in this wide-spread abduction case?"

"Because she's just an observer!" Anna snaps. "She was programmed to observe unless otherwise directed, and the only time she's directed otherwise is when I need something teleported. _If she interfered anyway_ ," Anna stresses, before she can be interrupted, "then it would have shown up on the external monitoring hard drive and yes, that's one of the first things I checked, and _no_ , it _can't_ be hacked. I made it myself and Athena tested it using all of this base's hack arenas."

"AI's are craftier than you give them credit for," Calhoun clips. "You should know that after dealing with me."

Anna throws her hands into the air. "News flash, pasty; you're _not_ an AI," she says, as dramatic as a TV anchorman.

Ariel blinks once, twice, and then her eyes alight, joyous sparks exploding in her chest. "Calhoun's a living being?" she exclaims. "Can I meet her? Please? _Ple-e-e-ase?_ "

Anna's head jerks back, shock colouring her cheeks. "Yes and no?" she answers, with a frown. "You remember that story I told during the briefing yesterday, about the planet Hero's Duty?" Ariel nods. "Well," Anna continues, "the alien we saved, or tried to save, was Calhoun. We hooked her consciousness to the base and put her body in a form of status until we could get a healer powerful enough to reverse the begin throes of death; in other words, a heaven healer.

"We were never afforded the time to recruit one," Anna adds, "but Calhoun was." She stares dead into a nearby camera. "She's had a meta capable of healing her under her nose for four years, and she didn't say a word."

Ariel claps, as giddy as a child. "It's Rapunzel, right? Right! Ah! This is so fun," she exclaims, an excited whine whirring at the back of her throat.

"She doesn't know what she is, Anna," Calhoun scolds. "You and the old elites were supposed to guide, train and teach her, like you were supposed to do for so many others, but they died and you fled and all of your combined knowledge was locked in the planning room. You know, the technology blackout room I have zero access to? So tell me, what was I supposed to do? Tell her what she is but not be able to explain what it encompasses or even give her a hint on how to unlock and control whatever her full abilities are? Was I supposed to say, 'hey, you have the ability to bring someone on the brink of death back to life somehow; please figure it out soon because my body's dying'? No," she says, "she had enough on her plate without me adding more uncertainty to it."

Anna crosses her arms over her chest. "Okay, yeah, that's my bad," she says, with a hollow smile. "Sorry, I forget what other people do and don't know sometimes. My memories have a tendency to scramble."

A silence follows, one Ariel can't quite interpret.

After one of the longest minutes of Ariel's life, Calhoun sighs. "Alright, the door's locked," the not-so AI says.

"Too late now," Anna says. "See I was going to watch one of my contingency messages with Ariel but now I already feel like shit so that's not going to happen."

"Oh? Oh!" Calhoun cries, with a cheer. "You pessimistic little baby; cuddle with Ariel while I create a three-D render of one of the recordings."

"What? No!" Anna shouts. "God damn it, Calhoun, I was kidding!"

Calhoun laughs. "I wasn't!" she replies.

Anna whimpers, her shoulders bunching around her ears.

Ariel's heart lurches at the sight, and she does what she does best; using water to trip Anna into her arms and settling the villain into a comfortable embrace between her legs. "You'll be okay," Ariel purrs, settling her chin on Anna's shoulder.

Anna releases a shaky laugh. "I can't say I feel that same," she croaks, cowering further into Ariel's arms as a blueprint of a person materializes. "Athena preserve me," she whimpers.

Ariel tightens her grip, watching in fascination as Calhoun translates a flat recording into a live-like, true size interpretation.

From Ariel's self-lead Earth history lessons and from the generalized league contingency recordings she watched only days prior, she can tell which elite Calhoun is planning on torturing Anna with before the shape mapping is complete. Which means so can Anna.

A choked cry gurgles out of Anna throat. "God, Calhoun, no – not Athena," she begs, her face already wet with tears. "P-please n-no."

Ariel plants a firm kiss on Anna's temple and rocks her back and forth, trying to calm the villain before she can spiral into a panic attack.

In a flash, all the textures roll over the blueprint; showing Athena in her full glory; clad in her silver full-body armour, shining and glinting from the overhead lights. Her massive holy spear clings to her back, glowing a soft blue – a clear indicator of a magical artifact.

"Hey Arson; Anna," Athena says, her words muffled yet amplified by her eagle-inspired helm. She rubs the back of her neck, her head ducking for a split second before she sighs and, in one of the best moments of Ariel's life—and the worst moment of Anna's—Athena removes her helm.

Anna curls in on herself at the sight, a wince of regret twisting her features, Ariel finds herself mesmerized.

While Athena's face is aesthetically pleasing, her beauty comes from her piercing royal blue eyes; filled with strength and a promise of all-encompassing protection. The power displayed in those irises is almost enough to distract Ariel from the faded scars littering the elite's complexion, the stray strands of hair fallen from her small messy bun, or the faded red rimming to her eyes that tell of a session of sorrow not long past.

"This has been recorded before our mission to rescue you from the Ambassadors," Athena says. "I—" she hesitates, her eyebrows furrowing; then her shoulders slump. "I'm sorry you're all alone now," she whispers, forcing a watery smile that Ariel suspects is breaking Anna's heart. "I know you won't find joy knowing that you survived and I didn't, and I don't enjoy the thought of never seeing you in that wedding tux you kept talking about, but that's what happened." Athena blinks, tears racing to her jaw line. In Ariel's arms, Anna sobs.

Athena laughs, but it sounds hollow. "But who knows," she says, "maybe I, too, was captured. Maybe I hurt you. Maybe you had to escape on your own and had to leave me behind because I became a liability. Maybe I was killed by your own hand. Maybe— maybe. _Maybe_."

Athena throws her helmet, her face contorting in rage. It collides with an unknown hindrance with a hideous _clang_.

"I don't know what happens!" Athena shouts, spittle flying from her mouth. She grips her forehead with both hands. "There are too many possibilities to account for and I know rambling my way through each of them isn't going to make you feel any better. If you left me behind you don't want to hear me talking about how it's okay I put you in an escape pod instead of myself; if one of the others betrayed me you don't want to hear me telling you to trust them and if you killed me you don't want to hear me talk about how I'm sorry I tried to behead you." Athena buries her face in her hands.

"You're a complicated woman, Anna," Athena whispers, choking a watery laugh. "That's why I love you." She looks up, setting her blurry vision on Anna, and making the villain's breath hitch. "I love you, Anna," Athena repeats, with a harsh swallow. "And whatever happens, whether my death was because of me, or you, or someone else, please try to remember that. You wouldn't hurt me unless you had no choice or your mental state was compromised, and you wouldn't leave me behind for the same reasons. I don't care what the Ambassadors have done to you – whatever happened isn't your fault. You might think it is, but it isn't."

"How can you be so sure?" Anna warbles, more to herself than anyone else.

"Shit happens, Anna," Athena whispers, reaching out before, with a sigh, letting her arm fall back to her side. "All of us knew there was a possibility of never coming back with every mission we've ever done, and if one of us has been compromised, well"—she shrugs—"we knew that was a possibility, too. All of us were aware that our ends could come from the most unlikely of places, and if that cause happens to be one of us, then so be it. You don't have to accept it at face value and you don't have to seek punishment on the culprit, but you _do_ have to forgive yourself for whatever part you played in the events."

Anna ducks her face into Ariel's shoulder, her frame shaking with tremors.

"I know it won't be easy for you," Athena says, with a knowing glint in her eyes. "But, even though you'll struggle, you'll survive. I just hope, with all of my heart, that you're the type of survivor who still strives for happiness instead of blaming themselves." Anna winces and, as if on cue, Athena leans forward, her eyes softening. "You've always been hard on yourself, but you don't need to be. Not anymore," Athena says, and smiles. "I'm protecting you from my station in Valhalla, so make my job a little easier and stop throwing yourself into detrimental situations, okay?" She leans back. "Find another lucky woman to love. Marry them. Wear that handsome tux you kept dreaming about. Retire. Adopt a gimpy dog and name it Athena, and love it with all your heart. Do it for me, okay?"

Athena glances at something Ariel and Anna can't see, and says, "I'll see you when your time comes, love, but live for the both of us in the meantime, okay?" She pauses, and adds, "I love you."

After a moment of silence the projection shimmers and fades, leaving Ariel to comfort the wailing human in her arms and combat a startling realization.

Anna was engaged to Athena. Anna _loved_ Athena, and she killed her. There was no rhyme or reason; there wasn't a greater purpose it could have been attributed to – there was just a conquering alien race trying to score the upper hand.

"I wanna go home," Anna weeps, clinging to Ariel's arm. "God, please, let me come home."

Ariel buries her nose in Anna's hair and holds her tight, understanding the hidden meaning. "You're not allowed to die," she hisses, tears stinging her eyes. "You're not allowed to give up, do hear me? You made me believe I can find a place to belong here, and you're not allowed to take that hope away from me. If you need a home, _I'll_ be your home; I _will_."

"You don't even know me," Anna says, her voice almost too abused to recognize. "You don't know what I've done—"

"It doesn't matter," Ariel insists, a ferocity in her voice she hasn't heard in a long while. "All I need to know is that we're both broken, but we can help each other rebuild. We don't have to live in the shambles of broken dreams anymore; we're allowed to be happy. _We're allowed to be happy_."

_I am allowed to be happy, right?_


	19. Family Ties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [Waela ](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/5470087/Waela)(FFnet) and [Those-Who Walk-Alone ](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2792061/)(FFnet) for betaing my work.
> 
> * * *

Seven Years Ago 

Anna fidgets in the small cargo bay within a Protector ship, one of the more compact models. She picks at her skin tight outfit, self-conscious of her wardrobe for no logical reason she can think of.

Jennifer, sitting across from the nervous hero in full armour, chuckles and points her spear at the fretting redhead. "You'll do fine," Jennifer says, a warm amusement in her tone.

Anna frowns and nudges the spearhead away from her face. "You know I don't like it when you point that thing at me," she says, but she can't find the space within her anxiety-ridden chest to be angry.

Jennifer hums, resting her helm encased head in an armoured palm. "I know," she says, without a hint of being apologetic.

"This is stupid," Anna hisses, burying her face in her hands. "I shouldn't even be here, Athena," she asserts, before the other meta can interrupt, but the rest of her thought process gets lodged in her throat. The thoughts about how she's only eighteen, regardless of the fact that she's been training for this for three years, has been a Protector for two years, was an unofficial 'trail elite' for the past year and is, now, an official elite.

"Don't say that," Jennifer says, her tone hard. "You're good at what you do, and you have potential beyond even what I can fathom; and that's saying something."

Anna sighs. "Yeah, I guess," she airs. She can't deny it – with Jennifer's information vision only working on her half the time and Anna's budding resistance to James and Jennifer's powers, Anna can't honestly say she doesn't have hidden abilities she isn't aware of. The problem lies more in the fact that she doesn't know what they are or if they exist; so why is her rank reflecting her scope of potential powers instead of her skill in the powers she actually has access to?

"Good enough," Jennifer accepts, straightening her posture. "So, as you know, our order of business today is recruiting Bear."

"Yeah," Anna mumbles, "but I can't say I'm happy about getting face time with the meta who mauled me."

Jennifer laughs. "You'll be fine," she chortles, as if Anna being alone with the shape shifter who beat the piss out of her isn't worrying at all.

"Oh, I'll do great," Anna drones, sarcasm dripping from her words. "You know it's funny, I woke up this morning thinking, 'gee, I really want to get my ass handed to me today.' Glad I won't be disappointed."

From the cockpit, a laugh booms from James' stubborn lips. "Look at you, sis, making dreams come true!" he roars, holding his gut with his free hand.

Jennifer flashes her middle finger at James' back. "Fuck the hell off and pilot the goddamn ship!" she shouts, before tilting her head back to Anna. "I'll be monitoring you the whole time, love." She jabs a thumb at her brother. "If anything goes wrong Hades will hell gate in and get you out of there."

"Damn straight," James says, exiting the cockpit to join the two women. "Because I'm better at protecting your girlfriend than you are." He looks to Anna, his coy green eyes swimming in the black haze covering his face. "I'm better than her, aren't I?"

Anna quirks a half grin, even if no one can see it past the cloth mask covering the bottom half of her face. "I like that you give me leeway in situations Athena doesn't," she admits.

"Ha!" James exclaims, pointing a finger in Jennifer's covered face. "I win!"

"I still haven't forgiven you for getting Arson drunk off the poisonous narcotics we found two systems over," Jennifer reminds, and stands. "I'm assuming you put the ship on autopilot, which means we're nearing our drop zone. Is that correct?"

"Yeah we're close," James says, waving a flippant hand. "But seriously, Arson's immune to toxins and shit, so I basically just got her high off her rocker until her system flushed everything. I don't know why you're mad about it – Arson had a good time."

Jennifer scoffs. "Secure our drop location," she says, not humouring her brother.

James rolls his eyes. "Yeah, whatever," he says. He opens a hell gate beside him and, with the speed of the ship, it scoops him up and closes in his wake.

Jennifer walks to the back of the ship, slamming the side of a closed fist into a button to open the cargo hatch. Anna stands and takes her place by Jennifer's side.

"Let it go," Anna says, her gaze flicking to the opening. "We both know that the stuff Hades and I get into is an active decision on both our parts, irresponsible or not." She grins, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement. "I totally took the narcotics on a dare, though." The ship beeps. "But Hades was right; it was stupid fun!" Anna laughs, leaping out of the ship with a whoop.

On the in-ear comm device, Jennifer says, " _I feel as if I work with children_."

Activating a reply channel through a telepathic link, Anna says, "Yeah but we're the best and you love us."

Jennifer chuckles. " _I can't deny that_ ," she says, before the line goes dead once more.

Using flames to position herself head first, Anna propels herself straight to the ground and only spins and reverses her momentum at a height she knows would gave Jennifer a heart attack. She hovers in the air a notable distance from the ground, scanning the area.

"Nice of you to show up," James says, popping his head through a hell gate behind her. Anna spins and flails, almost losing her balance. James eyes shine with amusement and his arm emerges, pointing to a small outcropping of trees, surrounded by a field. "Over there, kid," he says, before slipping back into the portal; the whispering black abyss collapsing in his absence.

"So creepy," Anna murmurs, turning heel and flying to the designated area. She hovers in the air, learning from the last encounter that she holds a distinct disadvantage on the ground. "Bear?" she calls, though she doubts the shape shifter will reveal herself. "We need to talk."

Jennifer air-slides to a halt beside Anna, positioning herself with a sense of superiority Anna could never manage while in flight. _Maybe it's a quirk of having the actual ability to fly?_ Anna wonders, but doesn't think anymore of it. Being the children of Reaper and Archangel makes a whole string of things possible, and Anna isn't going to kill her brain sorting through the options.

"Bear!" Jennifer projects, her voice booming through the empty space. "Come out and talk. This isn't a request."

Anna has to stop herself from rolling her eyes. "Because _that'll_ work," she deadpans, low enough to only be heard by herself.

A booming laugh rumbles from the fair-sized clump of trees. "And people call me a brute," a deep, accented voice reverberates, just as a tall, muscle built woman steps to the edge of her hiding spot.

Bear, a full head taller than Jennifer in her classic meta form, has a mane of brown hair tumbling down her back, sharp hazel eyes narrowed into brutal slits, and a muscular build that puts actual bears to shame. For clothes she wears worn-out sneakers, faded blue jeans and a gray t-shirt; all straining against her massive body. The exposed skin of her arms and face reveal a multitude of scars, both minor and major – but Anna wonders if they're real or if they were added for dramatic effect.

Jennifer floats to the ground, placing her spear on her back; the heavy object staying in place with the aid of a magical magnet. "No one here needs to be a brute," she says, walking towards the woods and stopping when Bear growls in warning.

"Is this retribution for showing your newest elite her place?" Bear asks, her voice gravelly and carrying unspoken threats.

James pops his upper half upside down through a hell gate, not two meters to Bear's left. "Would you believe us if we said we wanted to have a kinky four-way?" he asks.

"Hades!" Jennifer barks.

Anna laughs and lowers herself to the ground next to Jennifer. "If this is an indirect way of saying you want to get in my pants, you can be assured the answer's no," she jests, humouring the man.

"Arson!" Jennifer shouts, aghast.

" _What_ pants? You wear a fucking unitard," James retorts. "Besides, I bet you spit fire or something from your vagina when you orgasm like a weird reverse dragon or some shit, and I do _not_ want to have my penis in there when—"

"Roasted wiener is a delicacy in some cultures," Anna interjects.

"What the hell is wrong with you two?" Jennifer snaps, her hands balled into fists.

"So many things," Anna replies, at the same time James asks:

"Do you want the short list or the long list?"

Jennifer tilts her head to Anna, and the fire meta can almost see the amount of judgment seething in her girlfriend's eyes.

With a bratty grin Anna knows Jennifer can't see, Anna leaps into the air and keeps herself there with fire. She crosses her legs and gestures to Bear. "Go on then, don't mind me," she says. James barks a laugh and lifts himself back into the hell gate, letting it disappear behind him.

Bear raises an eyebrow, a half smirk twisting the corners of her lips. "It seems to me like you have enough problems without adding me to the list," she says, dark and condescending.

" _Second half of the plan is a go_ ," James says, through the communications device in Anna's ear.

Anna touches her ear and tilts her head, as if listening to an incoming distress call. "Athena, I have to go," she says, straightening her legs. "I'll meet you back at base, yeah?" Without waiting for an answer she bolts over the tree line and, once out of Bear's sight and hearing, flies into hell gate.

Anna slams back first into the cargo bay door of the still in flight Protector ship, taking the wind out of her; but the lack of oxygen distracts her from the whispering tendrils of insanity and death licking at her subconscious.

"Hell gates, gotta love em," Anna wheezes, picking herself off the ground and limping towards a secured briefcase. She knows it's not the hell gate's fault her momentum didn't match the ship's when she travelled through the portal, but that doesn't stop her from blaming the hellish transportation method.

Then again, with as much as Anna uses them, it's a miracle she still has her sanity – or so she's been told. James and Jennifer both concur that hell gates invoke madness or a death lull on users without a resistance to the ability – an ability that literally uses hell as mid-point between any two places. James has perfected his gates so that people who use them can't see that in-between stage, but that doesn't stop them from suffering the same effects.

Anna unhooks the briefcase from the floor and pops it open, finding the outfit she packed in it the day before.

"ETA, two minutes," the ship's computer says, its robotic voice ringing in the empty space.

Anna kicks off her speed shoes and throws on the cargo pants, undershirt, button-up long sleeve shirt, socks, and running shoes. She even has time to do up four of the buttons on her shirt before the ship prompts her to get ready for the next drop.

Closing and securing the briefcase once more—her speed shoes and mask thrown inside—Anna jogs to the end of the cargo bay and grabs one of the drop wires. The ship, in camo mode, no doubt, slows and tips on its axis, leaving Anna dangling. The cargo doors open and the wire Anna holds releases, lowering Anna to the ground at a speed that would make an untrained person pee their pants.

The wire slows its pace and Anna releases her hold on it, landing in a crouch. The wire retracts and the cargo doors close. Anna grins, noting that the ship is, indeed, cloaked.

Anna stands and looks around, noting the path she stands is in a suburban impersonation of a forest – all the trees evenly staggered and all a couple meters apart. The fire meta glances up and down the path, catching her bearings before trotting to one end of the superficial forest.

At the end of the path she slows to a walk, straightening and buttoning her shirt the rest of the way, and pockets her comm device. The path ends in a gated pathway between two houses, and then into a neighbourhood of houses packed so tight together Anna wonders if she could fit her hand in the space separating each of them.

Anna glances at the house numbers and starts walking, looking at each number as she passes. _I'm on the right side of the road, at least_ , she thinks, drumming her fingers on her thigh in an anxious rhythm.

It's one thing to confront a meta in battle; it's a whole other story to interject oneself into a meta's civilian life. It's one of those taboo things that are associated with villains, not heroes. Yet, after reading over Bear's file, Anna was the one who suggested it.

Bear has a family—a husband and daughter—who doesn't know she's a meta and, as far as the elites are aware, does everything she can to keep her family in the dark about that aspect of her life. As a meta Bear is aloof and violent – prone to maim and murder those she deems 'unworthy to live' and isn't assimilative to outside opinions.

Therefore, Anna had reasoned, Bear had to be confronted at home with her family close by, or else she would never listen to anything the elites had to say. Anna had gone further, saying Bear wouldn't be receptive to Jennifer or James because she would perceive them as a threat not only because of their power, but because of their attitudes. Anna herself had already lost a head-on collision with Bear, so the shape shifter would be less likely to behave irrationally at the sight of her.

That didn't mean Anna had to like the actual execution of said plan.

Anna catches sight of the right house number and sucks a breath through her teeth, forcing herself to walk up the driveway and the two-stair stoop. "You got this, you _got_ this," Anna whispers, bouncing on her toes and rolling her shoulders. Then, without having nearly as much confidence she feels is necessary, raps her knuckles on the door in a upbeat, five-rhythm knock.

In the silence that follows Anna glances at the car parked in the driveway and the position of the sun, confirming that, yes, there should be someone home.

Just when Anna contemplates knocking again, a broad, stocky man opens the door. He raises a bushy eyebrow, a guarded slant to his shoulders. "Can I help you?" he asks, in a Scottish accent so thick it takes Anna a couple seconds to figure out what he said.

"Oh, uh, hi," Anna says, with a tentative wave. "I'm here for Elinor, is she in?"

The massive man, Fergus, tilts his head, curiosity sparking in his gentle eyes. "What an odd accent," he says. "Where's it from?"

Anna smiles, stuffing her hands in her pockets. "From what people tell me it's a mix of American, Canadian, British and"—she tilts her head—"Dutch, I think?" she says, even if it's only half the truth, if that. "I'm from America, though." _For the most part_.

"Why are you all the way out here?" Fergus asks, an odd delight in his speech that Anna doesn't understand.

"For Elinor," Anna says, flashing a disarming smile. "It deals with classified information, I'm afraid, so I can't get into it. Your wife isn't in trouble," she assures, when worry flickers over Fergus's features, "there's just a couple things we need to clarify with each other."

Fergus scratches the stubble on his chin, his bushy mustache ruffling as he breathes a considerate breath through his nose. "My wife isn't in," he says, before stepping back and gesturing into the house. "You can wait for her, if you have time."

Anna grins. "That would be wonderful, thank you," she says, stepping into the cluttered house with a mild sense of fascination. While messy, the arrangement of everything appears specific and purposeful.

"My name's Fergus, by the way," Fergus says, offering a massive hand that Anna shakes without hesitance.

"Nice to meet you, Fergus," Anna replies, with a kind smile. "I'm—"

"Who're you?" a small, demanding voice asks.

Anna blinks and glances towards the entrance to the living room, where a thirteen-year-old half hides behind a wall, glaring at her.

Flashing her trademark smile, Anna says, "I'm Anna. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"This is my daughter, Merida," Fergus introduces, with a proud grin.

The child—Merida—ducks further behind the wall. "Momma says not to trust strangers," she says, her voice firm despite her body language.

Anna laughs, loud and boisterous. "Strangers are just people you haven't met yet," she says, with a crooked grin. Then she purses her lips and narrows her eyes, making a show of looking suspicious. "Unless they own a van and tell you they have candy. In that case you should kick the stranger and run away."

Merida giggles, her posture relaxing. "You're funny," she says, a tentative smile spreading over her lips.

"It's a talent," Anna brags, dusting nonexistent dirt from her shoulders. With a light chuckle Anna steps out of the entryway and lays a gentle hand on Fergus's bicep. "Thank you for letting me— god," she interrupts herself, poking the man's arm. "Do you pull full-grown trees out of the ground for a living?"

Fergus barks a joyous laugh, flexing his arm with pride. "I might not look it, but I am a champion log thrower," he boasts.

Anna grins, relaxing despite herself. "Really? I'll have to stop by the next time a tournament is being thrown, don't mind the pun," she says.

Fergus booms with laughter and claps a heavy hand on Anna's shoulder that she _knows_ would've stung if she was a lesser meta. "I like you, Anna," he says, his eyes crinkled into cheerful half moons. "Have you eaten yet? I have leftovers if you want some."

"That depends on what it is," Anna says, with a sheepish smile. "My tastes in food is, ah, a little different than what's usually served around here." Her traitorous stomach growls, and she winces. "Maybe I can order pizza?"

Merida snorts, abandoning her hiding place and striding past her father like she owns the place. "We have frozen pizza we can cook up," she says, displaying the confidence she only hinted at earlier.

"I don't think your mom will be happy with that," Fergus interjects, a spark of fear lighting in his eyes.

Anna frowns. "It's okay, Merida," she says, even though the teenager had already stopped at the tone of her dad's voice.

"Momma, huh?" Merida murmurs, her eyebrows furrowing.

Indecision grips Anna's heart, wanting to comfort the pair but not wanting to reveal how much she knows.

Merida turns to Anna, her hands picking at the hem of her shirt in an anxious motion. "I heard that you're here for my mother," she says, almost too soft for Anna to hear. "Are you— you're not going to try anything on her, are you? Because I— I don't think that's a good idea."

Anna smiles to hide the unease clenching her chest. She walks and crouches in front of Merida, taking the teenager's hands in her own. "I have no intentions of hurting your mom or your family," Anna says. "And, if after today, your mom sees fit that I never come back, I won't. I may be a lot of things, but a home wrecker isn't one of them." She grins. "I hope she does allow be back, though, 'cuz if she doesn't I won't get to see you guys again."

Merida grins and blushes, and pulls a hand from Anna's grip to punch her in the shoulder.

"Ow," Anna laughs, holding the superficial injury. "What was that for?"

"You're a big softy," Merida teases, with a shit-eating grin. "But I think you're the type of softy who'll do my momma good."

Anna grins in turn, determination flaring in her chest. "I hope so, Merida," she says. "I really, really do."

* * *

Present Day 

Anna sits with her feet propped on the table in front of her, a large yet thin glass-like tablet on her lap – or, more accurately, a mobile base console. With the death of the elites no one left in base had the authorization to unlock them from their holsters; once again reminding Anna about the predicament she left the league in when she ran.

 _I was going to come back_ , Anna tries to assure herself but, truth or not, the fact remains that she _didn't_ come back. Not when it counted.

Anna closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose, hard.

"Did you find anything?" Elsa asks from the other side of the table.

"Huh? Oh," Anna blinks her eyes open and looks at her tablet, which has been sitting on the same page for the past twenty minutes – the title page of Reaper's profile. "No," she says, swiping the picture of Reaper off the screen with a curled lip, "I haven't."

Elsa sighs through her nose and leans forward, setting her tablet on the table. "You don't have to stay with me," she says. "I— I know this is waste of time, okay?" She runs her fingers through her bangs. "You know the information stored in this base better than I do, and you access to more information than I do. I know I can't find anything you and Calhoun haven't already found. I _know_ that, I _do_ , but—"

"When the old elites got stressed past their limit they did some pretty pointless things, too," Anna interrupts, flicking to the last page of Reaper's profile and seeing nothing but blacked out information, along with a number informing the villain of additional locked pages. Calhoun had tried unlocking both his and Archangel's primary profiles—the ones created before the old elites—but that data, along with all the other data created in Archangel's day, is stored in a location Calhoun doesn't have access to.

With a sharp breath Anna raises her sights from the meaningless information in front of her and meets Elsa's imploring gaze. "While the go-to of all five elites was to beat on some holograms in a training room until they couldn't move," Anna elaborates, "they had"—she quirks a smile—"nervous habits that they indulged in, in the privacy of the elite-level access areas of the base.

"When research failed, Athena would pace and play ball with any wall-like structure," Anna recounts, a soft smile capturing her lips. "Hades would build a pillow or blanket fort in his room—if there wasn't one already made; he liked his forts—and curl inside of it with a blanket. Black Dragon would make a nest in hot stones or coal and chew on something bone-like – in human form, mind you." Elsa laughs, and Anna smiles. "And Bear, that saint, would stress cook, or stress eat, or stress clean," she sighs, rubbing her neck. "It was nice," she murmurs, her muscles twitching with the urge to reach out to hold friends she no longer has.

"What about Arson?" Elsa asks, when Anna makes no move to continue.

Anna looks at Elsa, taken aback. "You want to know about Arson?" she asks, not bothering to hide her shock.

Elsa shrugs. "If nothing else, it'll give me a better picture of who she is," she says. Her eyebrows furrow. "Was," she corrects.

 _Ah, right. That's all it is_ , Anna thinks, but it doesn't stop the pang of hurt that blossoms through her chest. "Arson would sit down," she says, after forcing her vocal cords to work.

Elsa tilts her head. "Sit down?" she questions, with a frown. "That's it?"

Anna nods. "Sometimes she would cry," she elaborates, "but more often than not she'd just sit down somewhere, it didn't matter where, and she'd stay there and stare at nothing for upwards of hours. Sometimes she would fall asleep, other times she wouldn't. Sometimes one of the other elites would sit beside her to keep her company—or if they needed the quiet company themselves—but that's it."

"Huh," Elsa airs. "I didn't expect that."

Anna shrugs. "Not many people would, I don't think," she says. She tilts her head back and stares at the ceiling. How often does she sit in silence now? More often than she's active, surely.

"The Berk team will be arriving back at base in twenty-three hours," Calhoun informs the pair, interrupting the lull in conversation.

"Good," Elsa hums, turning her attention back to her tablet.

Anna's eyes pinch. "Twenty-three hours, eh?" she questions. Only twenty-three hours until Kida starts roaming the halls once more. "Are they bringing anything or anyone back with them?" she asks.

"Executioner's Axe and her dragon, Stormfly, are coming to scout Earth before an alliance is solidified," Calhoun answers.

"What?" Anna exclaims, startling Elsa. "Her? Berk is sending _her_ , of all people?"

"She's the queen of Berk, Anna," Calhoun drones, "Technically speaking, she is one of the most logical people to send."

"Technically speaking," Anna mocks, "Axe is one fucking screw away from being Merida, and that is the last fucking thing this base needs."

"Wait, hold up," Elsa says, her eyes round with confusion. "How do you know Axe, and why is her coming here a bad thing?"

Anna sighs, scrubbing her face with her hands. "Athena kept tabs on metas throughout the universe to keep the elites prepared for upcoming heroes and threats," she says. "Being so close with them, I was privy to discussions and such that often brought up other metas. Axe was one of those metas." She rests her hand over her mouth, her gaze flicking aside. "With my access, I could retrieve her file from the planning room." Her throat closes up at the thought, and she shakes her head. "But that's not necessary. All you need to know is that Axe is a hot head who welds an axe nicknamed 'the executioner' – Axe wasn't really creative with her meta name.

"Point is," Anna continues, "Axe's axe has the ability to slice through anything but the toughest materials in the universe, and she herself possesses mild super strength. She was a trained dragon hunter before Dragon King—the king of Berk—learned they could turn dragons into pets or weapons, or both. After that she became proficient in the art of hunting dragon hunters."

Elsa stares, taking a moment to process the information. "Axe is a serial killer?" she asks, needing the clarification.

"Berk doesn't see it that way, but yeah," Anna confirms. "Human or human-like prey is the type of game she specializes in; I don't know how well she'd fare against other metas"— _heh, right_ —"but I do know she's dangerous and unstable."

"According to Shang," Calhoun says, "Axe isn't planning on staying more than a couple of days before taking a ship back home. He says you'll have the authorization to set in a pre-authorized flight path with a return sequence so none of our metas had to escort her back."

"An escort would be a better idea," Anna says, seizing the opportunity. "Kida knows more about interplanetary travel than anyone else, and is aware of threats that are better to avoid. She can take a teammate, if she'd like—"

"Anna, no," Calhoun scolds. "With the threat of the Ambassadors creeping closer we need to make sure we're at full strength at all times."

"I'm sure we could get Arson to rally the villains to help us," Anna stresses, fully aware of how crazy she must sound to Elsa. "The villains may be shit heads, but most of them like Earth as a thriving community for their use not someone else's, or as a dead crater."

"Did you hit your head?" Elsa asks, at the same time Calhoun says:

"Be reasonable."

Anna purses her lips, biting down the retort dying to spill from her lips. "Whatever," she grits, as a response to both parties.

"Anna," Elsa airs, pushing from her seat and walking around the table. She sits beside Anna, and Anna lowers her legs to the floor, using the action to discretely swipe Reaper's file off her tablet. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?" Elsa asks, her eyes ripe with concern.

Anna forces a smile. "Yeah," she says, but it rings hollow even to her own ears.

Elsa's features soften and she rests a hand above Anna's knee. "Did you have trouble sleeping last night?" she asks.

Anna chuckles, thanking Elsa for the conversational out, intentional or not. "I always have trouble sleeping," she says, resting a hand over Elsa's. "Thank you," she whispers, twitching a small, real smile, "for caring, I mean. Not a lot of people do."

Elsa smiles, one that lights her whole face. "As far as I've seen, Ariel cares about you, too," she says, neglecting to mention the fact that Ariel cares about everyone.

Some of the tension in Anna's chest releases at the mention of the marine alien. "She does," she says, unable to keep the affection out of her voice. She laughs. "That reminds me," she says, cracking a bratty smirk, "Ariel wants to know if you'd be interested in a 'threesome love triangle of love' – her words, not mine."

A shocked laugh bursts from Elsa's lips, and she grins. "May I ask why, and with whom?" she asks, the care on her features coaxing a soft smile from Anna's jaded lips.

"Ariel knows I care about you," Anna explains, "and she figures since you, her and I already care about each other that we should just 'be damned with the formalities' and 'go for it.'" She laughs, butterflies making home in her chest. "I told her I didn't think I was ready for any relationship, let alone one of that calibre, but she insisted I ask you about it and—" Anna sucks in a breath through her nose and squeezes Elsa's hand. "And," the villain continues, tentative, "I can't say I disapprove of the sentiment."

Elsa blinks, then a smile breaks with renewed ferocity across her lips. "Look at you, Ms. Charmer," she teases, and places her other hand over Anna's – making an oddly comforting hand pile. "I'll consider it," Elsa says, with a reassuring smile. "I don't think I'm in the right frame of mind to enter into a relationship, either, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested."

Anna grins. "So it's a date," she jests.

Elsa laughs. "Yeah," she says, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement. "It's a date."

" _I'd love to go on a date with you," Anna says, somehow containing the anticipation bubbling in her stomach._

_Jennifer smiles, an excited—if nervous—flutter to her words as she says, "Yeah?" She puffs out an airy laugh, her fingers trembling against Anna's. "God, I was so worried you'd say no."_

_Anna laughs. "You could have asked me to bend over the first day I met you and I would have said yes," she chortles, an amused smile curling her lips._

_Jennifer's eyebrows pinch. "I wouldn't have said that to a fifteen year old," she says, focusing on the wrong detail, like always._

" _You say that but your adult ass just asked out a seventeen year old," Anna counters, sending the heaven meta a pointed look._

 _Jennifer flushes and shifts her weight from foot to foot. "You're almost a legal consenting adult," she defends, then ducks her head. "Besides we won't, uh,_ do _anything until your birthday, if— if we're still together, and you want to."_

_Anna stifles her urge to laugh, but her throat still flutters with the effort. "When I was fifteen—" she starts._

" _Okay, I get the point," Jennifer grumbles, and Anna laughs_.

Anna pales and closes her eyes, forcing herself to take deep breaths.

"Anna?" Elsa asks, concern replacing her amusement.

Anna cracks open an eye, her hitched shoulders relaxing when she sees Elsa in front of her instead of the phantom face of a hero long past. "I— I'm fine," she stutters, but Anna knows lapses like this don't stop at just one memory. She touches her head with her free hand without realizing it, her eyebrows pinching as she attempts to stop the flood liable to consume her.

Elsa's lips tighten into a thin line, but she doesn't contradict the claim. "Maybe you should go lay down," she suggests.

 _Because resting works so well with me_ , Anna thinks, but keeps the sarcasm to herself. "Sure," she says instead.

Elsa smiles, but there's a forced quality to it this time. "I'll put your console away," she says, removing her hands from Anna and taking the tablet. She stands, but makes no move to the wall or her side of the table. "If you need me, even for something small, you get Calhoun to page me, okay?" she asks.

Anna's chest warms, just a little, and she smiles. "I will," she says, already contemplating asking the winter meta to indulge her in another sleepover. As strange as it was sleeping in the same bed as someone else once again, it was . . . nice. Awkward for sure, but nice.

The winter meta must see Anna's sincerity, because Elsa's smile eases into something more natural. "Good," she says, striding to the wall and sliding the tablet back into place. A bolt clicks, locking the tablet, and Elsa sighs through her nose. "Try to get some sleep," she encourages, stepping back into Anna's line of sight. Elsa leans against the table and crosses her arms over her chest. "That's what Ariel's doing."

Anna's heart lurches, unsure if she should be nervous or relieved. "Yeah?" she asks, minding her words.

Elsa quirks an undecided smile. "Yeah," she confirms. "I was wondering why she wasn't up and about harassing people, and Calhoun told me Ariel stayed up all night helping you." Her gaze meets Anna's, the focus in her eyes sharpening. "By the way Calhoun said it, it sounds like sleepless nights are common for you."

Anna's cheek twitches. "Sleep and I aren't exactly on a first name basis," she admits, pushing from her chair and heading to the door. "If you need my access for anything feel free to page me," she says, sending Elsa one last look as she opens the door. "I'll be awake."

Anna exits and shuts the door before Elsa can answer.

"Oh," a voice says, from in front of her.

Anna blinks and focuses her eyes, her jaw hardening at the sight of Rapunzel. While the healer hasn't been outwardly hostile towards Anna like Belle has, Rapunzel has a unique form of passive-aggressive hostility that sets Anna on edge.

Anna waves to the door behind her, walking away as she says, "If you're looking for Elsa, she's in there."

Instead of a response, Anna feels the daggers Rapunzel glares into her back, then hears the slamming of a door. Anna rolls her eyes, getting the meaning of _that_ message loud and clear; _stay away from my friend_.

Not a minute into her walk Anna stops, stuffing her hands in her pockets as she stares at a massive sliding door that dons no decoration or embellishment. Inside this door, Anna knows, is a semi-circle area donning three similar doors, only those ones bare symbols of heroes long gone.

"That's the old elite living quarters, so I've been told," someone explains, making Anna jump and spin. Megara twitches a polite smile, her hands rising in a show of good intent. "Sorry," the hero apologies, "I didn't mean to startle you."

Anna's gaze flicks to Megara's biceps, the corners of her eyes pinching with an anxiety her trained mind can't quench. Battling this woman has taught Anna the true meaning of super strength, and she can't help the nauseous roll of her stomach at the thought of standing within Megara's attack radius.

"It's fine," Anna lies, forcing her eyes back to the door. She wonders if it would be mature of her to scamper inside and hide, then debates if the psychological effects of such a reckless act would be worth it. "And I know it is," she adds, nodding her chin at the elite lockout section before her. "It has its own private kitchen." _Who the fuck needs to know that?_ she scolds herself. Her fingers curl into fists inside the security of her pockets. _Fucking hell, I'm panicking_.

"Hm," Megara hums, but otherwise stays silent.

 _If I stay still she can't see me_ , Anna's mind supplies, and then she scowls. _Megara isn't a goddamn t-rex, you fucking idiot_. She sucks in a deep breath through her nose as quietly as possible, relying on the awkward silence to put this uneasy meeting to a close.

After a full minute of uncomfortable, quiet company, Megara glances between Anna and the door. "Are you going in?" she asks.

"That sounds like a great idea," Anna blurts, before her brain can filter her response. She winces, mentally slapping herself in the face. _Good luck getting yourself out of this one_. "I mean, no, I won't be doing that." _Smooth_.

Megara's eyebrows crawl her forehead, bemusement settling in her eyes. "I— are you okay?" she asks.

"Not normally!" Anna exclaims, with a boisterous laugh so fake she outwardly cringes. Where the hell did her ability to act normal go when she fucking needs it? "Shit, I'm sorry," she says, scrubbing her face. "I didn't sleep last night, so I'm a little loopy."

Megara stares for a long moment, as if contemplating whether or not to believe the redhead. "That's fine," she says, shrugging, but Anna's not sure if the words are genuine. "Look, I've been trying to talk with you the last couple days," she continues, changing the topic. She smirks. "But lo and behold, you're as good at hiding within the base as you are outside the base."

"Get to the point," Anna grits, annoyance biting at her chest. Fearsome meta or not, she will not have her integrity degraded by an elite wannabe.

Megara's head inches back, surprise lighting in her eyes at the sudden ire. "I, uh, wanted to talk to you about Arson," she says, confused.

 _Don't tell be this big idiot figured me out, too_ , Anna thinks, her eyebrows falling into an unamused line. "What about her?" she asks, an unconscious bitterness seeping into her words.

"I wanted to learn about her weaknesses," Megara says, sidestepping Anna's mild hostility. Not very well, if the annoyed twitch of her eye is anything to go by, but still; with how tactless Megara is Anna's surprised she managed a feat like this at all.

"You and a million other people," Anna mutters.

Megara's eyes flare, her upper lip curling. "You know who she is and you're not telling anyone," she growls. "You're lucky you haven't been properly interrogated over information that valuable." Anna pales, countless memories vying for her attention. "You're also lucky," Megara continues, her tone harsh, "that all I'm asking for are weaknesses. That shouldn't be so hard to spit out, should it?"

Anna grits her teeth, remembering why she had avoided contact with this hero in the first place.

Megara, while having some general quarrel against Arson, is intimately involved with Kida. Anna knows from experience that she traumatized Kida to the point where, whenever she sees Arson, her powers sputter out of control – if she can use them at all. Megara, being the loyal girlfriend that she is, redoubled her efforts against Arson in turn and, to this day, is one of the only leaguers Anna's genuinely afraid will kill her.

"She's scared of getting eaten," Anna grinds; another reason to dread the return of the Berk away team; that keen fucking dragon nose and the sharp teeth that come along with it.

Megara blinks, her head snapping back. "Eaten?" she asks. "Like . . . in general? Or by something weird like zombies?"

"Before Bear was recruited she mauled Arson; almost took off her arm from the elbow down," Anna says, her eyes narrowing. "And Arson was only saved from getting chomped in half by Black Dragon by sheer dumb luck. Ever since then she's held a fear of being eaten, more so the concept of watching _parts_ of herself get eaten."

Megara's features contort. "Well we can't do that," she mutters.

"Not unless you wait for her blood to lose its toxicity and you're a cannibal," Anna drones, earning her a sharp look.

"What are her other weaknesses?" Megara demands, a dangerous glint sparking in her eyes.

Anna twitches a nervous smile. Hiding in the old elite living quarters doesn't sound like such a bad idea anymore. Her eyes widen. "Anything to do with Athena," she says, a victorious feeling lifting the weight on her lungs as she jabs her thumb at the door. "I can pop in there and grab you some things if you want."

Megara tilts her head, the intensity of her eyes returning to normal. "You'd do that?" she asks.

Anna strides towards the door, a weird laugh tumbling from her lips. "Fuck no, I just wanna get away from you," she says, and cringes. She can almost hear the sarcastic slow clap of her brain. Maybe she should have lied down like Elsa suggested.

The next thing Anna knows she's being pinned face first against the door, a wall of muscle pressing on her from behind. Black spots edge into Anna's vision, her breathing reduced to shallow puffs as hellacious memories start screaming for her attention.

"Why are you so loyal to her?" Megara hisses, her hands pressing Anna's forearms into the cold metal barrier.

"Let me go," Anna says, but her throat is dry and her energy is diverted to a much more pressing matter.

"Arson is a menace," Megara snarls, ignoring the small plea. "She's responsible for _millions_ of deaths—"

"Please, stop," Anna begs, her body shaking with what she knows is the onslaught of a panic attack.

"—She's tortured _hundreds_ of people—"

"Hercules, you're hurting me," Anna says, panic clear in her tone.

"Arson's hurt a lot more than one person," Megara growls, pressing herself in further. "She rapes people," she growls, directly in Anna's ear. "Did you know that?"

Anna squeezes her eyes shut and grinds her forehead against the door, zombie-like noises escaping her throat as sparks fire through her neural pathways, shattering the mental blocks she spent ages erecting.

"No, no, no, no, _no_ ," Anna moans, the world around her drowning into a cloud of white noise and remembered sounds crackling like static in her ears.

"Yes," a distorted voice—Megara?—says, "and she'll keep doing it if we don't stop her."

" _You murdered them."_

"No, please, stop!" Anna shrieks, struggling against the body pressing against her full-force, consequences be damned. "I'm sorry! I'm _sorry!_ " she wails, trying and failing to jostle herself free. The person behind her grunts with effort and Anna's mind spirals further, dragging her into the dark recesses of her mind.

"What the hell?" the person behind her grits, their breath puffing on Anna's neck. Anna suppresses the urge to retch.

"Not again," Anna sobs, her body succumbing to tremors. "Not again, please, _please_ don't do this again."

Anna's stomach twists and her world flips, her back connecting to the wall.

"Seven times for the seven names you've disgraced," Darryl says inches from Anna's face, a savage edge to his teeth and a malicious glint in his eyes.

" _No!_ " Anna screeches, a disjointed cord twanging in her chest and sending a sharp shard of _something_ into her heart.

Darryl laughs, an insane glint to his narrowed pupils. "You won't get a minute's peace until the moment you die," he cackles, sounding like the howls of the damned.

Anna twists and kicks, a scream tearing through her lungs. She squeezes her eyes shut, focusing on the oppressing weight on her chest, the sharp pain in her heart, the crushing crackling sparking through her right hand – anything but the man in front of her.

" _You messed with the wrong family."_

Choked air whines out of Anna's throat, her head slamming back into the wall as her consciousness is grabbed by the throat and dragged under. "I'm sorry," she wheezes; a last ditch plea before her awareness slips away for good.

_Anna winces, the skin on her cheek rubbed raw from the hard back-and-forth she's been forced to endure for— how long now? She started regaining her own mind four finishes ago and stopped crying in earnest two finishes ago, but other than that she has no way of telling how long this has been going on. All she knows is that her body aches from the magical poison leaking into her from the reaper tag seared into her skin, and her mind screams with the atrocities she committed not days prior._

_A forceful thrust has Anna's face digging into the marble harsher than usual, and tears well in her eyes at the sound of a groan she knows far too well by now. She wants to scream, beg, but all she can manage is a muffled cry around the cloth shoved in her mouth threatening to choke her if she so much as breathes wrong._

_Darryl leans forward, pressing his body against Anna's back. He manoeuvres his head around Emma's hand—still clamped around Anna's neck and sending agonizing magic through Anna's spine—and touches his lips to Anna's ear. "Six down," Darryl says, a breathlessness to his voice that makes Anna's stomach roll with the urge to puke. The ultimate meta chuckles, dark and foreboding. "The next one goes on your face."_

Anna's shaking when she comes back to herself, blood dripping into her eyes from a wound she doesn't remember getting, and her ribs throbbing as if she took one hell of a punch.

"Ah, fuck," Anna hisses, cupping her side and yelping when not her ribs cry out in protest, but her palm. The villain flips her hand and pales, finding the skin sizzled and crisp. "Oh, what the _fuck_ ," Anna breathes, panic gripping her heart at the shallow cuts zigzagging up her forearm like bolts of lightning, coating her skin in a light sheen of red. Her heart drops. She didn't attack anybody with blood all over herself, did she?

Anna raises her head and wipes the blood from her eyes with the back of her good hand. A twinge, however, tells Anna that her other hand fared no better than the first.

Blinking the last drops of crimson from her vision, Anna takes in her surroundings – and it makes her breath seize.

Megara lay prone on the floor not four meters away, blood staining her clothes; but there's no indicator of _who's_ blood.

Worse, even, is Elsa, Rapunzel and Ariel—who's naked, huge surprise—standing over their fallen hero, their wide eyes boring into Anna's.

 _Shit_ , Anna thinks, trying to stand from her kneeling position. "Shit!" she curses aloud, collapsing back to her knees and cradling her torso. Fear grips her heart, settling in her chest like lead. _In my panic I lashed out_ , she thinks, horror contorting her features. _They know who I am now, and I can't escape_.

Ariel takes a hesitant step forward, and that alone makes Anna want to sob.

The marine meta blinks and kneels, tilting her head to get a better look at, well, _something_. "Your eyes," Ariel says, pointing.

"W-what?" Anna stutters, fear gripping her even harder than before. Did she go Red?

Ariel hums, an unreadable expression on her face. "They have flakes of gold," she says, sounding equally concerned as she is worried. Her gaze flicks behind Anna, her eyes glazing in thought.

"I— what?" Anna questions, some of her trembling easing, but not enough to make it look like she isn't dying of hypothermia. "What are you talking about?"

Ariel's gaze remains over Anna's shoulder, and the villain fears what she'll see should she follow the marine alien's line of sight.

"You—" Rapunzel chokes, her face absent of colour. "You wielded Athena's spear."

Anna's mind blanks.

"That isn't possible," Anna says. While Anna contains super strength potent enough to lift the mighty weapon, she neither knows where it is or contains the magic required to handle it.

"Apparently it is," Elsa murmurs, her gaze following Ariel's.

"No, that isn't possible," Anna refutes, shaking her head, making her world spin and tilt. "Oh god," she slurs. How hard was she struck in the head?

Ariel catches Anna, careful to avoid the blood leaking from her wounds – giving Anna an eyeful of boob.

"Fucking lovely," Anna mutters, turning her head away. In an instant, Anna wishes she kept her sight on Ariel's chest.

There, on the floor, is Athena's spear.

Anna's stomach rolls and she looks at her palms once more, now recognizing the burns and cuts not as ones created by fire, but by magical whiplash. By all intents and purposes, prolonged use should have blown her arms off.

 _But that's not— how— this isn't possible— it's not— I'm not_ like _her_ —

"I need to make a phone call," Anna rasps.


	20. The Big, the Bad, and the Ugly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N** : Thanks again to Waela (FFnet) and Those-Who Walk-Alone (FFnet) for betaing my work.
> 
> * * *

Two and a Half Years Ago

Mechanical Warfare scowls, his hulking form hunched and twitching as residual electricity sparks through his implants. "You've learned, I'll give you that much," he says, his deep baritone voice rumbling through the panicked street.

Rapunzel grits her teeth, keeping the augmented villain in the corner of her sight as she heals the wounded civilians. The last time she was in a situation like this—in a populated area with smashed cars, windows and pavement, combined with the screams and wails of panicked innocents—the end result was the destruction of almost an entire state.

Nudging the boy she was healing towards his mother, Rapunzel says, in a tone that brokers no argument, "Get out of here."

"Thank you, _thank you_ ," the mother says, taking the boy in her arms and running away from the meta battle. Rapunzel twitches an unseen, mirthless smile, wondering if her efforts will mean anything once everything is said and done.

Kida _tsk_ 's, an unimpressed arch to her eyebrows. "You're more implants than human," she scolds, responding to the villain's statement. "It was as easy as figuring out the structural weaknesses of a computer."

Mechanical Warfare laughs, loud and condescending. "If it were so easy to figure out, why am I still alive?" he asks. "The old elites didn't make a habit of letting hazards like me roam free," he mocks, his eyes glinting with malicious humour. "Then again, you've made it abundantly clear that you're nothing like the old elites." He laughs once more, igniting an ire in Rapunzel's bones.

"Considering how Arson turned out, I'll take that as a compliment," Elsa says, advancing on the villain from behind.

Mechanical Warfare smirks. "I wouldn't if I were you," he says, his irises glinting with dark humour as he eyes Elsa from over his shoulder. "Because Arson turned out stronger than the lot of you."

"Strength has nothing to do with it," Kida snaps, lightning crackling on her fingertips.

Mechanical Warfare cackles. "Fine, then she's a hell of a lot _smarter_ than you," he laughs, sending Kida a vicious smirk. "Or do you think you'll find her 'structural weaknesses' like you found mine?" he mocks, the demented upward curl to his lips turning sinister. "The only weaknesses Arson had were hesitance towards violence and compassion, and I think we all know those don't apply anymore."

A sound wave cracks like thunder across the sky, and Mechanical Warfare breaks into deranged laughter.

"Speak of the devil," Mechanical Warfare says, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat.

Rapunzel pales and looks up. Sure enough, there's a dissipating line of fire and parted clouds, but no Arson; yet. A harsh breath wheezes through Rapunzel's teeth and she curls her fingers into fists to hide the shaking.

"Kida, get back to the ship!" Elsa bellows, dropping into a tense fighting stance and scanning the sky.

Kida stands still, blood draining from her face as she stares up at the evidence of Arson's impending arrival. Lightning sputters around her in short, uncontrolled arcs, and her arms start quivering.

Mechanical Warfare laughs at the display, and his eyes continue shining with sick mirth even when Elsa freezes his mouth shut.

"Kida!" Elsa barks, trying to snap her teammate out of it. "Get out of here, now!"

Rapunzel grits her teeth, taking a step towards Kida before thinking better of it. Kida's control over her powers is haphazard at best in Arson's presence, so the likelihood of friendly fire is more plausible than the healer is willing to admit.

Arson smash lands on a wrecked car, sending a shockwave through the, now, deserted street.

With a gravelly laugh and a slow, mocking clap, Arson raises her head to reveal her piercing teal eyes. "Congratulations," she says, with only a hint of ridicule. "For a while there I thought you were incapable of overpowering this generation of villains."

Kida grabs at her heart over her uniform, her breathing shallow and quick. Her legs quiver and give way from underneath of her, smashing her knees against the broken asphalt.

Arson glances at the alien princess, the corners of her eyes pinching. Emotions war in Arson's eyes, but the harsh set of her eyebrows tell of a deep-seated resentment that speaks louder than any words.

"In saying that, I'm here to save this asshole," Arson says, turning her attention to Elsa. "In theory, that is," she adds, when Elsa readies herself to attack.

Elsa blinks, her arms lowering just enough to display her surprise. "Explain," she demands.

Arson shrugs. "This is the first time you've disabled a big bad without someone who gives a damn saving their ass, right?" she asks, a rhetorical question. She sits down on the car with one leg propped up to support her chin. "I'm curious to see what you planned to do," she says. "You don't strike me as the murdering type but, then again"—she laughs, and outstretches her arms in a pointed gesture—"I've been wrong before. So I ask of you, one more time – show me what type of hero you really are."

Elsa's eyes harden. "This is a trick," the winter hero growls.

Arson raises an eyebrow. "It wasn't a trick the last time, and it certainly isn't now," she says. "All this is, is an evaluation, of sorts. In the first instance you chose revenge over peace, and this instance"—Arson chuckles, low and cold—"well, that's what I'm hoping to find out."

"I won't be a part of your games," Elsa spits, her gaze flicking to Kida when lightning arcs and crackles from the ground.

"Hm," Arson hums, ignoring the display of disintegrating control. "Let's put it this way," she says, patting her pocket. "I brought an implant boost with me, and if you don't do something to Mechanical Warfare—kill, torture, jail; I don't care—then I'm going to give it to him."

Mechanical Warfare bellows muffled shouts of protest, his half-frozen and still sparking body struggling to move.

Rapunzel grinds her teeth, her gaze flicking between friend and fiend. She doesn't shout for Elsa not to listen to Arson, nor does she encourage her friend to take the villain's words at face value. Nothing is simple when it comes to Arson—the lines of right and wrong blur beyond recognition with her presence alone—so to be presented with an ultimatum like this . . . Rapunzel doesn't envy the decision Elsa has to make.

"What do you get out of this?" Elsa asks, gritting the words.

The corners of Arson's eyes crinkle in empty amusement. "Technically I get nothing either way," she replies. She raises a limp hand, palm facing up. "On one hand you take, use or abuse him to the point where he's no longer any use to me. On the other"—she raises her other hand—"he continues being a functional villain with aspirations of killing me." She shrugs and leans back on her elbows. "Trust me, if he wasn't expendable I wouldn't be giving you the option to dispose of him."

"Why are you giving me an option _at all?_ " Elsa grinds, her eyes hardening with determination . . . and concern.

"Other than the fact that I don't like him?" Arson quips with a sharp, grating laugh.

"Yes," Elsa growls, "other than that."

Arson's eyes glint with a sickening joviality. "I suppose you could say I'm lacking worthwhile entertainment," she says. She lifts her leg and points her boot at Mechanical Warfare. "You better make a decision before he breaks loose; cuz if he does, he's mine."

 _Crack_.

"You fucking asshole!" Mechanical Warfare bellows, his newly broken jaw clicking in tandem with the ice breaking around his mouth. "We're a goddamn team!"

"Team?" Arson echoes, malevolence flaring in her eyes. She pushes herself upright, glaring down her mask at her villainous counterpart. "Villains don't have teams," she snarls. "Villains have temporary, reluctant allies – something easily made and easily broken because none of us gives a fucking shit about anyone.

"I killed the only team I ever had, do you understand that?" Arson roars, flames crackling around her. The car beneath her groans under the sudden onslaught of heat, its roof bending and dripping liquid metal. "I don't want a _team_ ," she snaps, "I need a group of capable pieces of shit who _listen to me_ and don't give a flying fuck who they kill or the goddamn consequences that go with it." A manic glint makes home in her irises. "I may not be your _team_ or your _master_ but if you defy me then you have to pay the fucking price," she hisses, and points at Elsa. "Your price is her choice, so tell me"—she leans forward and roars—" _what kind of hero do you want her to be?_ "

Fear. Genuine fear slacks Mechanical Warfare's features. He pales to a shade shy of death and he looks over his shoulder, his damaged jaw crunching out of place as it presses against the crooked implants protruding from his shoulder. "Don't let her have me," he says, so garbled and maimed the words are hardly recognizable.

Elsa twitches, her arms quivering with indecision.

Rapunzel grits her teeth, watching the disturbing scene in silence. She knows Elsa only has two options – kill or jail, but what jail has the capacity to contain a meta of major villain status, or a meta in general? The old elites would murder meta threats and no one would blink an eye—it was normal, right?—but being in that situation themselves, having to make _that_ decision themselves, puts the position the old elites stood so much harder to fathom.

Could it be, Rapunzel wonders, that Arson flipped from hero to villain because of the carnage she inflicted as a hero? Without a strong will it would be difficult to distinguish the difference between killing a villain and killing in general if it felt necessary.

Is it possible the way of the old elites, a way so many people idolize, is a system that invites destruction and death?

Or maybe Arson's the outlier – a meta that never should have happened.

Whatever the case, a new round of metas have taken the Protector title, and they need to define themselves by what they believe is right, not what anyone else believes is right.

Rapunzel surges to her feet. "Ice him!" she shouts, her hands cupped around her mask. Elsa's gaze snaps to her in alarm. "Warfare can't function under extreme weather; we can utilize that to keep him subdued until we find a suitable, long-lasting containment method!"

Elsa's eyes relax, then tighten once more, in conflict with herself.

"We don't have to live up to the old elites!" Rapunzel bellows, desperate. "We don't have to try to be something we're not because we can be something _better_. We don't have to kill threats because it's an easy way to dispose of a problem – I don't want to have to kill a fucking kid meta if they can't get a grasp on their powers or a meta that doesn't know better; I don't even want to have to kill a sleaze-ball villain like Warfare, because _I don't want to be a murderer!_ "

In a flash of flames and heat Arson is standing in front of her, glaring. "Your words are powerful," Arson says, grabbing Rapunzel's wrist and raising it. "But let me ask y—"

"Golden Flower!" Elsa shouts, before she's blasted into the ground with a blinding explosion.

"Let me ask you," Arson continues, speaking over the concussive ringing in Rapunzel's ears. "Would you kill your worst enemy if given the chance"—she takes one of Rapunzel's daggers and pushes the hilt into the healer's hand—"even if it meant becoming responsible for their death?"

Rapunzel's mouth runs dry, her gaze caught in Arson's like a deer to headlights.

Arson's eyebrows fall into a harsh line and she twists Rapunzel's wrist, just enough for the tip of the dagger to touch the fire meta's chest. "Tell me," Arson growls, releasing the healer. "If you had to make a choice that defied morals, a choice where both options were equally right and wrong, a choice that made you the loser no matter what the outcome, what would you do?"

Rapunzel swallows and stares at her hand - at the dagger shuddering in her grip.

Arson, for her part, just stands there, waiting.

The healer's first instinct, of course, is to drive the blade into Arson's chest; because there isn't any downside to killing the worst meta in the galaxy. Before she moves, however, Rapunzel blinks, realizing that . . . that's not exactly true. Killing Arson would be a benefit to Earth, to the Protectors, even to the villains – but it would forever stain Rapunzel's soul. She would be regarded as a true hero by everyone, except herself.

Rapunzel grits her teeth and thrusts the blade forward, willing to pay that price.

 _Screech_.

Arson looks down, examining her sliced uniform and the exposed inlaid armour plating. She huffs a knowing scoff. "Like I thought," the villain says, smacking the dagger out of Rapunzel's hand. She airs a foreboding chuckle. "I may not have figured out what type of hero Blizzard is, but I know what type of hero _you_ are." She leans forward, close enough for Rapunzel to count the freckles on Arson's exposed skin. The corner's of Arson's eyes crinkle in mocking amusement, and she whispers, "You're like me."

Rapunzel scrambles backwards, clutching at her chest. No retort is forthcoming, but it doesn't matter; Arson has already walked away, pulling a device out of her pocket as she nears Mechanical Warfare.

"Be a doll and swallow this," Arson says, holding the piece of tech in front of Mechanical Warfare's mouth. Warfare, his bottom jaw askew, glares at the fire meta. Arson rolls her eyes. "Give me a fucking break," she utters, before grabbing Warfare by the hair and yanking his head back. "Say 'ah!'" she mocks, shoving the device down his throat and clamping her free hand over his nose and mouth. "Come on," she goads, as Warfare struggles against her, "stop gagging and take it like a big boy."

Ignored, Kida cries out in despair and clutches her head, lightning cracking in the air around her.

"There ya go," Arson murmurs, releasing Mechanical Warfare and taking a couple steps back. She watches for a moment, watching as bones and implants snap back into place. "Sweet," she airs, melting the ice restricting the other villain and tapping on the clear communications device in her ear. "'Kay asshole, hit it." A pause. "Because I don't give a shit about your goddamn times table." Another pause, one that has Arson throwing back her head with laughter. "I didn't do anything to the fucker; he was getting his ass kicked pretty good without my help."

Mechanical Warfare roars, his massive muscles bulging as his uncurls to his full height, almost double Arson's. He glares down at the fire meta with manic bloodshot eyes, more resembling a crazed bull than a person.

"I'll show you which one of us is expendable!" Warfare howls, spittle flying from his mouth, and he lunges with a cocked fist.

Arson's eyes harden, but she doesn't move.

A hair from Arson's face, Mechanical Warfare's fist stops dead, his body rigid and unmoving.

"The hell is this?" Warfare chokes, forcing the words out of his mouth.

Arson's shoulders relax and she steps out of the way of Warfare's deadly blow. She chuckles, her fingers still pressed to her earpiece. "Call it an educated guess," she says, replying to no one. She waves a limp hand at Warfare. "So are you going to pick this fucker up or do you want me to deliver the goods along with securing them?" A pause. "Oh?" she questions, glancing into the sky. "I'll meet you up there in ten seconds, then. Keep the cargo door open."

"What, the hell, is going, on?" Mechanical Warfare growls, his speech strangled and disjointed.

"Scar happened," Arson says, walking to Warfare's backside and grabbing his belt. She chuckles, dark and empty. "You really shouldn't trust a thing he offers you."

With flames, flying debris, and a break of the sound barrier, Arson and Warfare are gone.

Rapunzel grits her teeth, glancing at Kida—who's still in no shape to be approached—and Elsa, stumbling her way out of the crater Arson created just for her, the winter meta's armour cracked and hissing concentrated plumes of freezing air.

"Damn it," Rapunzel grits, clutching her bangs. "Damn it!" she shouts, slamming her eyes shut and doubling over, bellowing a scream to the heavens. She was so close, _so close_ to deposing of the biggest villain of her time, and she blew it.

" _You're like me."_

Rapunzel pales and leans against a nearby streetlamp – or, at least, what remains of one.

"No," the healer whispers shaking her head. "I'm not like you. I'm _not_."

"Flower?" Elsa asks, her hoarse voice carrying across the street. "Are you alright?"

Rapunzel looks up, noticing for the first time the way her friend trembles and holds her gut; how the winter hero stumbles over her own two feet as she tries to walk.

"I'm fine, but you're not," Rapunzel says, guilt pooling in her stomach as she reaches out her hand and extends her magic. She spreads her magic through Elsa's body and watches the agony slip from Elsa's eyes. "I'm sorry to say this," Rapunzel continues, lowering her arm, "but Arson got out of here with Warfare in tow and, from what I can tell, she's set to deliver him to someone. Scar, perhaps – unless he's collaborating with someone else."

"Scar?" Elsa questions, sending Rapunzel a confused look before realization dawns on her. "Scar create the implant boost, didn't he?"

"If Arson's word is anything to go by, yeah," Rapunzel says, her chest tightening. She grits her teeth, forcing herself to stop thinking, and spits, "But I wouldn't trust a single thing she says."

* * *

Present Day

Rapunzel watches Anna in mild fascination as the elite meta hyperventilates into her hands. The healer thinks better of asking whether the villain is okay, because it's been made it quite obvious that no, she's not.

While Anna held herself together in front of everyone else, the moment she dragged Rapunzel to the docking bay everything appeared to hit her all at once. Anna had collapsed and clawed her scalp, muttering different variations about how bad this idea is – whatever _this idea_ is.

Not a half hour ago Anna had made a short phone call, consisting of, 'Fuck off,' and 'something fucked up happened and I have Athena's spear— if I had any fucking idea I wouldn't be fucking calling you, would I? Damn it, just, cover your face so I won't have to look at you when a league ship drops you off.' Then, she had detached herself from Ariel's protective arms, pointed at Rapunzel, and said, 'You. Follow me.'

So Rapunzel followed Anna here, only to for Anna to break down the second they stepped through the door.

"ETA, five minutes," Calhoun says.

Anna whimpers, turning whiter than a sheet.

"It's okay, I'm okay, I'll be okay," Anna utters, rocking back and forth just enough for Rapunzel to notice. "I'll be okay," she repeats, her voice cracking, and Rapunzel's shocked to see tears glistening in Anna's eyes.

"Calhoun, who's coming?" Rapunzel asks, anxiety twisting her stomach into knots.

Calhoun huffs an uneasy breath. "Someone Anna . . . wishes she'd never have to see again," she answers, as cryptic as ever – but Rapunzel isn't going to let the AI get away with it this time.

"Tell me who's coming," Rapunzel demands, glaring at the closest camera. "How am I supposed to help if I don't even know who I'm up against?"

"You're not 'up against' anyone," Anna chokes between large, forced breaths. "The reason you're here is because the person who's coming has a deep respect for healers and"—her eyebrows furrow—"metas of your particular type. If I'm lucky, that will prevent this person from doing anything hostile."

"My type?" Rapunzel echoes, with a frown. "What do you mean?"

Anna clenches her jaw, indecision warring on her paled features. After a long couple seconds of debate, she sighs. "You're stronger than regular healers," she says. "So strong, in fact, that you were being scouted by Athena long before I ever met her. I think you were five or six when she caught wind of you?" She laughs, stiff but genuine. "She wasn't even a fucking superhero yet—hell, she was hardly even a teenager—and she was already set on recruiting you. Elsa being in the picture staggered her plans a little, but didn't deter her. If Athena had have lived even a year longer—" Anna bites her tongue, pain flashing through her eyes.

Rapunzel's frown deepens, unease seeping into her limbs. "How much stronger?" she asks, but she isn't quite sure if she wants to hear the answer.

Anna twitches an aching smile. "You're the only healer I know of who, with the proper training, can combat death itself," she says. Rapunzel's head jerks back in surprise, and Anna turns, meeting her gaze. "You, Ms. Olsen, are a heaven meta. Just like Athena."

White noise rings in Rapunzel's ears and she sits down, her brain scrambling to make sense of things.

"Heaven metas of any calibre or specialty are extremely rare," Anna continues, rubbing her biceps as if she were stricken with a chill. "In my ten years on the meta scene I have only ever met three, including you, and I've only heard whispers of a few others, scattered across the universe. The old elites and I tried pinpointing them, but we never got anything more than tall tales and rumors." A soft smile stretches over her lips and her body stops trembling, if only for a moment. "We ended the search when Hades told us to 'stop chasing farts in the wind.'"

Rapunzel looks up, her eyebrows furrowing. "Why would something like that stop you?" she asks.

Anna's smile dissolves into a grimace. "It's a long story," she mutters, digging her fingers into her skin. After a moment, Anna sucks in a harsh breath and forces herself to stand, her eyes shining with a determination that the trembling of her fingers betrays. "Okay," she says, a hoarse quality to her otherwise steady voice, "the person who's coming built this base."

Intrigue overrides Rapunzel's need to collapse in on herself and she swallows the anxiety clawing at her throat. "Yeah?" she asks, making herself stand on unsteady legs. "They must be one hell of a meta."

Anna's eyes harden, a ingrained enmity colouring her drained features with an aggressive flush. "Oh, she's something alright," she snarls, her top lip curled just enough to expose gritted teeth.

The floor on the far side of the hanger roars to life and opens to the dark, open ocean beneath it, signaling an incoming ship.

Anna touches Rapunzel's arm – a light contact that conveys an extraordinary amount of danger. "If you try to fight her, you'll lose," she warns, dark and gravelly. She glances at the healer out of the corner of her eye, and it's enough to fill Rapunzel's gut with dread. "Because the woman you're going to meet," Anna rumbles, her sights settling on the ship as pushes itself out of the ocean, "is H user zero one." She twitches what Rapunzel guesses is supposed to be a reassuring smile, but resembles a sneer more than anything. "Say hello to Archangel."

Rapunzel's muscles jolt and her gaze snaps to the hovering ship, settling into an open dock.

Archangel. _The_ Archangel; the legend of heroes herself; the fairest of the fair, the heart and soul of compassion, justice and grace. The warrior who protected any who could not protect themselves.

Is H user zero one.

Rapunzel frowns, side-eying the stiff meta beside her.

This has to be an elaborate ruse, right? First Anna had convinced Calhoun of some misdeed, and she had been trying to convince Belle, Mulan and Rapunzel of the same, but it was never stated _what_ was done. This could mean any number of things, the most likely being that Anna was being vague on purpose, to let the leaguers think of whatever atrocities they believed horrible enough to break a veteran hero.

Rapunzel's jaw clenches. It's well known by the leaguers how skilled Arson is at acting and playing any situation to her advantage – which is the main reason Rapunzel has been going out of her way to avoid contact with Anna.

With a hiss, the ship's main entrance opens.

Anna takes a minuscule step back, her body tensing as if she's preparing to bolt or attack.

Without flare or fanfare, a well built woman with light brown hair, dark skin and forest green eyes hops out of the ship. Crow's feet from years of smiling are etched into the corners of her eyes, and her demeanour is the epitome of a graceful, silent protector.

Nothing Rapunzel sees gives any indication that Archangel is willing to do anything remotely capable of sending Anna off the deep end.

Anna flinches, her gaze finding purchase on anything besides the ultimate meta. "I thought I told you to cover your face," she hisses, her voice cracking and strained.

Archangel winces, regret washing over her features like a tidal wave. "Sorry," she apologizes, with way more remorse than necessary, given the circumstances. "I was going to—"

"Then why didn't you?" Anna roars, fire spitting uncontrollably around her still-injured arms. Horror flashes through her eyes and she holds her forearms away from her clothes, her muscles trembling with the effort.

Archangel cringes, but she doesn't look surprised by Anna's sputtering abilities. "I'm sorry, it was a miscalculation on my part," she says, her fingers digging into the fabric of her pants.

"Right," Anna spits, strain reddening her features as her shaking arms lower at a steady pace. "Damn it," she mutters, bending over just enough to let her arms hang. away from her body.

Archangel frowns, concern leaking into her gaze. "What's going on, are you okay?" she asks, taking a step forward.

"Stay away from me!" Anna bellows, setting her shirt on fire. "Fuck," she yelps, " _fuck!_ "

Archangel's lips tighten into a firm, restrained line. She walks back into the ship and, after a moment comes back with a bundle of fabric in her hand. "Here," she says, throwing the wad hard enough to smack Anna in the chest with a solid _thunk_ , despite the distance between them. "It's fireproof," Archangel explains, as if she expected something like this to happen.

"I'm not wearing _anything_ you fucking give me," Anna growls, her arms covering her, now, bare chest. Her pants and boots, however, remain intact.

"You can either wear it or face me topless," Archangel says. "It's your choice."

Anna pales, _really_ pales, and her breathing thins to the point where Rapunzel questions if she's breathing at all. Anna eyes the bundle of clothes at her feet, her chest lurching as if she's going to throw up.

"C-C-Chel," Anna cries, tears spilling from her eyes, only to evaporate the moment they hit her skin.

Rapunzel frowns. Anna had mentioned Chel before during her initial confession, but otherwise gave no indication of who this person is.

Pain flashes over Archangel's face and she grits her teeth, her hands balling into fists.

"C-Chel, p-p-please," Anna wails, breaking into a stutter Rapunzel never knew she had.

Archangel closes her eyes, a heavy breath hissing through her nose. "She won't help you while I'm here," she says, waving a vague hand around herself. "My powers interfere with hers."

Anna collapses to her knees, her features contorting in an emotional agony Rapunzel can't even begin to fathom.

Archangel opens her eyes and stares at the display, her own expression warping into excruciating regret. After a long moment she turns so that her back faces the duo, and she waits.

Keeping one arm over her chest Anna reaches out, her hand flinching when her fingers touch the fabric. Swallowing the urge to vomit, she pulls the items into her lap.

Rapunzel, not wanting to see Anna naked any more than Archangel, turns away.

After a full minute, they hear the distinct sound of Anna hacking out the contents of her stomach.

"Y-you even know my f-f-fucking bra size," Anna sputters, wet and broken.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rapunzel sees Archangel's shoulders hitch.

"Athena told me," Archangel says and, even though it rings like the truth, Rapunzel gets the feeling that it's nowhere near the full picture.

"Why would Athena know her bra size to begin with?" Rapunzel asks, latching onto the only clue she has.

Archangel hums. "You didn't tell her," she says, but Rapunzel knows she isn't the recipient of the statement.

"Of c-course I didn't fucking t-tell her," Anna spits, her stutter mellowing out. "It's bad enough she k-knows who I am."

"Oh," Archangel says, surprised. "Does that mean—"

"It doesn't fucking mean anything," Anna growls, her ire giving her false confidence. "I didn't tell her shit, okay? The only reason she knows anything is because I have a goddamn identifier on my fucking back."

Archangel cringes, her whole body twitching with the force of it. "About that—" she tries.

"No," Anna snaps. "Just, no." She hisses. "God, it feels like I'm wearing living nightmares." She laughs, loud and fake. "It's fitting, considering I am."

"Anna," Archangel sighs, turning back around. Rapunzel takes the hint and does the same, and the sight that greets her takes her by surprise.

Anna is wearing a fit yet loose fitting varying green shirt made of a shimmering fabric that looks like it cost more money than what an international company makes in a month. It suits her, more than suits her; but Anna hates it. Her expression says it as clear as day.

On the floor some distance away lay the other two articles of clothing, the underwear and pants, which also speak volumes to what Anna thinks of this arrangement.

"Don't you 'Anna' me," Anna snarls. "You don't have the right, you hear me? You don't have the fucking right!"

Archangel raises her hands in surrender. "Okay, I get it," she relents, without a fight. "Why don't you just tell me how you got Athena's spear?"

Anna glowers at the ultimate meta, unshed tears shining in her eyes and her hands clutching at her shirt as if she's desperately trying not to rip it off. "I don't remember," she grits.

Archangel's eyebrows furrow. "What do you mean you don't remember?" she asks.

"I mean I was in the middle of a fucking panic attack," Anna roars, her eyes flashing with malice. "I was stuck reliving the memories _you_ gave me, and when I came to my arms were ripped to shit and Athena's spear was on the ground." She clenches her teeth, hard enough to break bone. "Trust me, I wouldn't have fucking contacted you—let alone ask for your fucking help—if I didn't need it. Even then—" She chokes a frustrated groan and pinches her temples. "But sometimes you have to work with people you hate, even if it kills you."

Archangel looks stricken and she swallows, hard. It's clear to Rapunzel that Archangel isn't used to being despised, let alone by someone she cares about.

"She summoned it," Rapunzel provides, wanting to divert the attention of the bickering metas away from each other.

Archangel's head snaps Rapunzel's way, her eyes round with shock. "Summoned it?" Archangel asks, taken aback.

Rapunzel frowns. "Yeah, like Athena could," she says.

"Are you sure?" Anna intercedes, just as surprised. "Did you see it?"

Rapunzel's frown deepens. "No, but Blizzard did," she replies, not quite sure what she's missing. "Calhoun had alerted us that Hercules was attacking you, and by the time we got there the spear appeared in your hand in the midst of golden lightning. You only dropped it when the lightning inflicted too much damage to your arms."

Archangel's eyebrows furrow, her expression troubled. "So she had the power to summon but not wield it?" she asks.

"It looked like she was wielding it just fine to me," Rapunzel retorts.

Archangel shoots Rapunzel a disapproving stare, one that has the healer blushing and ducking her head in embarrassment. "Athena's spear only hurts those without the permission or ability to use it," Archangel says, like a mother scolding a child. She waves to Anna, who bares her teeth at the attention. "It looks like Anna has gained permission and a fraction of the necessary abilities to summon it, but not enough to wield it safely."

"I shouldn't have _any_ of the necessary abilities, period," Anna rebukes, gesturing to herself. "In case you've forgotten, I'm a minor hell meta, and hell metas don't get heaven powers because heaven and hell don't mix. If it did, Athena and Hades would've been walking mix breeds, but they weren't. Hades was hell, Athena was heaven. End of story."

Archangel raises an eyebrow. "Whether you like it or not, it's the truth," she says.

"No!" Anna barks. "The truth is that I was in a fucking relationship with a heaven meta for the better part of four years and it has to be some weird temporary transference or tolerance or some shit because _I don't have heaven powers_."

For a long couple of seconds Archangel only stares. Anna shifts, her shoulders curling inwards to make herself smaller. Rapunzel stares at the pair of them, eyes wide, as realization punches her in the gut.

Anna only knew of three heaven metas, two of which being Athena and Rapunzel. The other, based on the fact that Athena and Hades are siblings and their parents would have the same powers—

"Oh my fucking god you were dating Athena," Rapunzel wheezes, stumbling and leaning against a nearby crate.

Anna's expression pinches and Archangel grimaces.

"Yeah," Archangel utters, refusing to look at Anna. "They were good for each other."

"I clearly remember you using a different set of words when you were shoving my face in the floor," Anna snaps, acidic.

Archangel straightens, her stance becoming defensive. "The circumstances were different," she retorts.

"What circumstances?" Anna bellows, pointing to her head. "I only had enough influence to feed Red Arson the idea to visit you, thinking you'd have the power to help me, and all you did—" her voice cracks and she scowls, fire spitting around her in angry arcs.

Archangel flinches, and says, "I'm sorr—"

"You're no saint!" Anna hollers. She winces and grabs at her heart, but her pain doesn't dull the intensity of her voice. "You come in here acting so fucking sorry and, hey, maybe you actually are, but don't you pretend that you're the fucking victim. Sure, it hurt you – I've been in your _position_ and I can attest that it does leave a scar, but the one we get isn't even fucking comparable to the fucking people we abused. Do you understand that?" Archangel doesn't answer. " _Do you understand that?_ " Anna shouts.

"Yes! Okay, yes," Archangel relents, rubbing her eyes.

"What makes it worse," Anna snarls, "is that you weren't being manipulated. You weren't being controlled. You don't have a split personality to blame; it was just _you_. _You_ chose to do that to me. You were grieving?" she asks, and cackles, merciless. "News flash – mourning parents don't usually r—"

"I know!" Archangel shouts, gritting her teeth.

Anna grins, but it's feral. "What, you don't want me to say it?" she asks, as slick as oil. "You don't want to hear the word aloud?" Her eyes flare with ire. "I don't like hearing it either!" she yells, and grinds the knuckles of her free hand against her temple. "But it's in my head like a fucking parasite because not hearing it, not facing it, doesn't make it go away.

"I've tried running," Anna continues, spittle flying from her mouth. "I've tried keeping myself so busy that I don't have time to think. I've tried pretending that it didn't matter but the fact is that it _did_ , and it _hurt_. I lost more than my pride that day, and I won't have you shut me up if I want to say it but you don't want to hear it because you can't face the fucking facts"

"That's enough, Anna," Archangel intercedes, but she isn't angry or upset, she's just . . . tired. "I'm not deluding myself, okay? I know what I did, and what I helped do, and I know I can never atone for that, but that doesn't mean I want to stop trying. If I can make your life easier, even in the slightest, I'm going to do it. I'm not asking for forgiveness or an applause or an acknowledgement about how selfless I am, because the truth is I'm not doing this for you.

"I mangled my integrity that day," Archangel sighs, running her fingers through her bangs. "I abandoned every rule and every moral I ever had and I lashed out in revenge against the closest thing I'd ever have to a second daughter, and I not only lost you because of it, I lost myself. By helping you I'm hoping I can make the world go back to what it was supposed to be – the world we'd be in if my children were still alive." She grits her teeth, tears misting her eyes.

Anna stares, unforgiving. "Tell her what you did to me," she clips.

Archangel closes her eyes, taking a moment to breathe. She doesn't try to talk her way out of it. She doesn't beg for Anna to reconsider. She doesn't plead her innocence.

With one last breath Archangel opens her eyes and turns to Rapunzel. "I suppressed her powers, rendered her helpless," she says, grim. "I tortured her, held her down, and helped my husband, Reaper, reaper tag and rape her. Seven times."

Rapunzel's stomach rolls and she doubles over, her hands clutching her gut and her mouth. White noise roars in her ears and her vision hazes out.

Archangel and Reaper. The gods of modern heroes and villain-to-heroes, are rapists. They made the only elite Protector alive after the first Incident abandon everything she ever knew and forge on alone, as a villain, because she no longer believed in heroes.

Archangel and Reaper is the reason the world went to shit.

Staggering over to Anna, Rapunzel grabs hold of the villain's shoulder and breathes, wanting to get revenge in the only way she knows how.

 _Crack_.

Anna yowls, pitching forward in pain. Archangel jerks, her eyes widening in disbelief before hardening into something much more dangerous.

"Let go of her," Archangel snarls, barrelling forward with the grace of an actual angel. She holds out her arms, golden lightning crackling over her skin.

 _Crunch_.

Anna squeals and squirms under Rapunzel's much stronger grip – which tells more about Anna's weakened body than it does Rapunzel's super strength.

With a golden flash a heavy heater shield is strapped to Archangel's left arm and a shimmering long sword is held in her right. "I said, _let go of her!_ " she roars, planting her foot firm in front of Anna with a powerful stomp and thrusting her sword forwards.

It happens so quick, Rapunzel doesn't even have the time to be scared.

 _Klang_.

Both Rapunzel and Archangel stare in astonishment as Anna slams the sword out of the way. With Athena's spear.

"Don't you touch her!" Anna bellows, a fierce protectiveness in her voice that Rapunzel hasn't heard in over four years.

Archangel staggers back and blinks, eying Anna's arms, displaying nothing but fresh lightning burns. The ultimate meta lowers her guard. "She was healing you," she says, confusion in her eyes.

Anna glares, showing more vitality than she ever has. "Bones tend not to mend correctly without the intervention of medical professionals," she says, harsh. "Rapunzel was remedying that."

Archangel nods, slowly, and asks, "Did she heal all of you?"

"Everything except the reaper tag, yeah," Anna replies, her eyes hardening. "Now either tell us something useful or get the hell out of my base."

"Ah, right," Archangel says, eying the glowing blue spear. "You're a minor heaven meta."

Anna sneers. "By useful, I meant true," she snarls.

Archangel sighs, her weapons disappearing in a flash of golden lightning. "It _is_ true," she insists. "Being with Athena might have been able to give you permission and maybe, _maybe_ , allowed you to bind with the weapon, but that'd be the extent of it. Being a hell meta, minor or not, means that you holding that spear as you are now"—she points—"would rip you to shreds. Instead, you're sustaining a few injuries, at best."

Anna frowns and turns to Rapunzel, as if asking for her option on the issue.

Rapunzel rubs the back of her neck, cowed by the attention. "If you rule out what's possible, then what's impossible has to be true," she says, quoting whatever movie used the phrase last.

Anna considers for a moment, then nods. "Alright," she says, lowering the spear. She turns back to Archangel. "Care to explain?"

Archangel shrugs. "I don't have an explanation," she says, then she freezes. Her eyebrows furrow. "Unless—"

Athena's spear clatters to the ground and Anna is quick to go with it, howling and clutching at her chest.

Without thought Rapunzel reaches out to heal the ailment, but besides the injuries on her arms her magic says Anna's as healthy as can be.

"I don't understand," Rapunzel says, checking again and, like the first time, finding nothing. She meets Archangel's stare. "Am I not sensing anything because there's nothing there, or because it requires a heaven healer ability I'm not versed in?"

Archangel twitches, but she's respectful enough to not get any closer. "Even without training you should at least feel something," she says. Her muscles jolt, an idea—a terrifying idea—sparking in her head. "You didn't reactivate the reaper tag, did you?"

Rapunzel's head snaps back. "Can I even do such a thing?" she asks, and pauses. "What do you mean 'reactivate'?"

Archangel clutches at her skull, panic in her eyes. "Reaper tags are pure poison," she says, breathless, "if left unattended they can kill even hell metas, so when Reaper and I figured out Red Arson isn't regular Arson, Reaper sealed the tag. Only hell metas can reactivate them, but Anna's one so it's possible the combination of the two of you did it?" she theorizes, gritting her teeth.

"Get out!" Anna screeches, clawing at her chest. "Get out, get _out!_ "

Slow, like a energy saving light bulb, realization dawns on Archangel's features. "Oh," she says, sounding like she doesn't believe her own idea. " _Oh_ ," she says again, shaking away her scepticism. She points to Anna. "When did she get those gold flakes in her eyes?" she asks.

Rapunzel blinks. "Uh," she utters, thinking back. "Right after she summoned Athena's spear for the first time, so less than an hour ago. Why?"

"Is that when her chest pains started?" Archangel asks. "These specific pains, I mean."

"I don't know, maybe?" Rapunzel guesses. "Anna isn't the most straight forward person on the best of days, so it's hard to say."

Archangel hums, rubbing her mouth. After a moment she laughs, soft and uncomfortable. "God, if I'm right, I'm damn lucky Alpha Alpha hasn't killed me," she says, and crouches a fair distance in front of Anna.

"Who's Alpha Alpha?" Rapunzel asks, at the same time Archangel says:

"Anna, listen to me."

"Fuck off!" Anna chokes, the words gurgled and pained.

"I need you to do something for me, alright?" Archangel says, keeping her tone as calming as possible. "I need you to grab hold of the thing giving you pain, and I need you to pull it out of you."

"What the hell kind-of advice is that?" Rapunzel hisses.

"Sh!" Archangel hushes. "I promise you can reach it," she encourages. "Use your head to pinpoint it and grab it with your fist. You will feel a phantom pressure in your hand. When you feel that, I want you to pull."

Anna whimpers but still she closes her eyes and presses her fingers against her chest.

Rapunzel frowns. "What are you making her look for?" she whispers.

"A mark-less magic seal," Archangel whispers back, before giving Rapunzel a funny look. "Why are we whispering?"

"Because she's concentrating," Rapunzel retorts, gesturing to Anna. "Now what the hell is a mark-less magic seal?"

Archangel hooks a finger in the neck of her shirt and pulls it aside, showing a small but intricate round glyph, looking like little more than a black ink tattoo. "This is a regular magic seal," she says at regular volume. "Seals like these affect one person and one person alone; meaning the same sealing properties won't transfer to offspring. These seals can also be manipulated by anyone with a talent for it; so long as their skill level matches or exceeds the complexity of the seal.

"The other type of seal," Archangel adds, releasing her shirt, "is a mark-less seal, better known as a bloodline seal. These types of seals will transfer from generation to generation, and can only be removed, partially or fully, by one type of meta." She twitches a hollow smile. "Grim, Reaper's father, had to go through this process, and so did I."

Rapunzel crosses her arms over her chest, her eyes pinching in concentration. "If Anna has a bloodline seal, how come you're trying to make her fish it out instead of getting the meta you initially went to?" she asks. Her eyes widen. "Is _she_ one of these metas?"

Archangel shrugs. "Maybe," she says, then pauses. "Okay, probably; but either way Anna wouldn't have been able access this seal until now."

Rapunzel scrunches her face. "Because that makes sense?" she says, her intended sarcasm lost to her overbearing confusion.

Archangel's lips quiver, as if she's trying to suppress a smile. "As far as I can tell," she explains, "Anna's bloodline seal is the harsher equivalent of the progressive magic seal Reaper and I gave Athena and Hades; meaning whatever powers the seal deemed Anna could handle were divvied out as she grew up, but all the rest were locked. And all the powers Anna got were on, or branched out from, the hell spectrum; and one needs access to both heaven and hell abilities to adjust a bloodline seal."

"So," Rapunzel says, drawing out the word, "what changed?"

"I'm thinking," Archangel says, choosing her words carefully, "that Anna may have broken a seal in an effort to protect herself from Hercules."

"What seal? I thought she only has the one," Rapunzel says, feeling the beginnings of a headache.

Archangel's lips curl into a patient smile. Rapunzel supposes it would be charming, if the mere sight of the ultimate meta didn't make her sick.

"One seal has a multitude of other seals inside of it," Archangel explains. "There's a seal for every ability, all stacked into pillars of related abilities with the strongest on the bottom and the weakest on the top. If you want access to any ability, you have to activate all the abilities above it in that pillar." She shrugs. "I'm sure there are a few exceptions, but I haven't encountered any that don't include severe side effects."

Rapunzel hums, thinking. "So what are the consequences for a broken seal?" she asks.

"Depending on which seal in a pillar is broken and the power ratio of that pillar, anywhere from mild discomfort to death," Archangel replies.

Rapunzel's muscles jump. "Death?" she hisses. "God, why aren't you more concerned?"

"Because if Anna can't get that seal out to begin with I can't do anything," Archangel answers, like it's obvious, "and if she does get it out I can repair it."

Rapunzel relaxes. Well, as much as she can knowing what Archangel's done. "You can?" Rapunzel asks, feeling a distinct ill relief.

"She broke a heaven seal and I'm a top-of-the-line heaven meta even with my sealing in place, so yeah," Archangel responds. "I may not be able to repair it to pristine condition and I might to need to activate some of the topmost seals to alleviate pressure, but it'll save her life."

Rapunzel nods as if she understands, even though she doesn't. She stares at Anna's quivering back, letting her mind wonder and tumble over the minefield this meeting has laid in her brain.

"So," Rapunzel says, not wanting to get stuck in her head, "if Anna isn't a fire or hell meta, what is she?"

"The same as her father, I'd suspect," Archangel murmurs, tiptoeing around the question; and if there's one thing Rapunzel has come to hate since entering the league, it's that.

"What. Is. She," Rapunzel grinds.

Archangel sends Rapunzel a peculiar look. "If Alpha Alpha is to be believed, Anna is Beta Rho," she says, her lips tugging into a frown. "It's hard to say for sure, though. He's notorious for silent manipulation; he's never seen unless he wants to be seen. So if Anna's his kid he covered his tracks, and he's not going to reveal the truth to the likes of us."

"Okay," Rapunzel says, hanging off her last string of patience, "then what type of meta is her supposed father?"

Anna screams, grabbing at her chest with both hands. Her muscles bulge and ripple, displaying an obvious effort of _trying_ to yank something out of her, and failing.

"You can do it!" Archangel encourages, but Rapunzel wonders if the words makes Anna as sick as they makes her.

Sweat beads on Anna's forehead, grunts of strain and strings of salvia spraying from her mouth.

Rapunzel places a comforting hand between Anna's shoulder blades. Maybe, the healer thinks, Anna will do better knowing she's not alone with the person from her nightmares.

Sucking in a heavy breath, Anna roars and pulls – every muscle in her body quivering as she rips a single, glowing blue circle with a bar through the middle, out of her chest.

A second later, Rapunzel finds herself standing amidst dozens— no, _hundreds_ of circular glyphs, all resting in pillars with the largest on the bottom—closest to Anna—and the smallest further away. They circle all around Anna and rest in two distinctly different rows – the bottom row is made of gray glyphs, with some being a dark, imposing black, and a few others being a swirling, crimson red. The top row is made of silver glyphs, with a notable amount being a stagnant brown, and only one being half silver and half a brilliant gold that flows and ripples like calm waves.

Rapunzel's eyes stop when they find a shattered brown glyph. The glyph—the base seal of a pillar, to Rapunzel's dismay—has splintered inwards, towards Anna's chest. Along the sharp edges of the broken seal gold magic sputters and drips towards Anna, as if she were the centre of gravity instead of the Earth.

The most disturbing part, however, is that the glyphs above the broken seal have warped, as if they no longer have a means to support themselves.

Archangel stares, wide-eyed. Her head turns this way and that, trying to grasp the sheer scale of Anna's bloodline lock.

"Wow," Archangel whispers, standing amongst the seals. She touches the upper row and flicks her wrist – spinning the whole layer around, and around, until Archangel taps the row once more, and it stops. "This is incredible," she airs, and starts pointing this way and that. "See these?"—she asks, pointing to the brown glyphs—"Those are deadlocked heaven seals. And these?"—she gestures to the silver seals—"These are inactive heaven seals. And this little guy," she says, pointing to the single half silver half gold seal, "is a half active seal. Huh. Don't know how that happened. Anyway, the same goes for the bottom, except it applies to hell abilities." She points to the black seals. "Deadlocked." Gray. "Inactive." Red. "And these are active.

"See how there's five off-branching blue glyphs on the seventh one down, setting perpendicular to the rest?" Archangel asks, rhetorical. "That's her fire ability, durability, super strength, heat and fire resistance, and, I'm assuming, being able to fly faster than sound without breaking her neck. Off-branching seals like this happen when one seal is active for so long it actually _creates_ similar abilities that have nothing to do with heaven or hell. Granted, this only happens when one major heaven or hell seal is open, because it leaves too much room and ability unattended to so the host's body adapts to gain every common meta ability it can that relates to the active seal.

"Which means Reaper, Athena, Hades, or I never experienced such a thing," Archangel continues, as if everything she's saying makes complete and utter sense. "We always had maxed out heaven or hell abilities that fit our power range – if not exceeded, in the case of the early years of Reaper and I. So this, _this_ ," she says, her hands hovering around the blue glyphs like a child at Christmas, "is a natural evolution of nature I've never bore witness to before—"

"Just shut up and fix me," Anna spits, her features clenched with only a little less pain than she displayed before.

Archangel blinks. "Yes, right," she says, spinning the top row until she gets to the pillar with a broken seal. "I'm going to have to alleviate pressure to fix this one, since it was a deadlock instead of a mere inactive," she says, walking to the end of the pillar and touching the furthest seal. "The ability to sense magic usage," she says, and twists the glyph – which spins and switches colour into a simmering gold. She touches the next seal. "The ability to locate magical usage," she says, and twists; turning it gold. "The ability to— ooh, the ability to see and track magical trails." She activates it.

Anna chokes a strangled cry and curls in on herself, sweat soaking her skin in an unhealthy sheen.

Archangel frowns. "Your body isn't used to heaven magic, huh?" she whispers, staring at the seals before her. "I guess I'll have to switch these back off once I'm done." With a soft sigh through her nose, she activates a couple more seals before walking to the root of the problem. "Alright," she utters, cracking her knuckles – making Anna flinch away. Archangel winces but doesn't comment.

With light golden magic swirling around her hands, Archangel touches the broken glyph.

"You never answered my question," Rapunzel says, rubbing calming circles on Anna's back.

"Hm?" Archangel hums, distracted. "Oh," she says, the question registering. "They're an ultimate meta race called the Gatekeepers. As far as I'm aware there's only one active bloodline for them."

Gatekeeper. Rapunzel strains to think of where she heard that name before.

Calhoun, seeing the healer's confusion, says, "Known simply has 'the Gatekeeper,' he is the only other ultimate meta of our time; but records, as scarce as they are, tell of the Gatekeeper's hidden legacy going back several millennia. The likely cause of this is generation after generation using the same name, 'Gatekeeper,' while keeping personal identifiers such as 'Alpha Alpha' and 'Beta Rho' to themselves."

"It should also be noted that Gatkeepers don't do anything without a reason," Archangel says, her eyes hardening. "When I negotiated with Alpha Alpha, he made it clear that the only reason he was doing it at all was because of what I had to achieve on my end of the bargain. I'm sure the same can be said with Grim."

"What did you have to achieve?" Rapunzel asks, wondering if this is another secret she'll regret learning.

"I'd rather not say," Archangel murmurs, concern marring her features, but not enough to speak of any action she hates herself for. She tilts her head towards the nearest camera, but doesn't take her eyes off the seal in her hands. "By the way, Calhoun, thank you for taking care of Anna," she says.

"What was I supposed to do, ignore one of the greatest metas of our time?" Calhoun snaps, her revulsion-laced words taking Archangel off guard. "I believed Reaper when he called and told me that Anna isn't evil unless she's Red. I listened when he advised me to keep helping her, even if she didn't want it, because Anna's ultimate goal of protecting the Earth and her citizens never changed. I believed and I listened to him and, knowing that he's right, I'm glad I did – but that doesn't mean I forgive either of you for a single thing you've done to her. As far as I'm concerned you're an enemy to the league, and as soon as you're done helping Anna you can hop back on that ship and get out of here."

The attention in Archangel's eyes fade for a second, before she huffs a soft, resigned breath, and says, "So this is what it's like." She doesn't explain herself. She doesn't elaborate. She doesn't try to make her case.

Rapunzel's lips tighten into a hard line, blocking the urge to vent at Archangel or retch; she doesn't know which, only that she doesn't want to do either.

"Calhoun," Rapunzel clips, "initiate Golden Flower changeover."

"Are you sure?" Calhoun asks, alarmed. "Poseidon was adamant that you train more before going through with anything, and you've only trained with her for one day."

"So I'll train doubly as hard before my next deployment," Rapunzel snaps. "Initiate the changeover."

Calhoun sighs. "As you command, Cross Roads," she says.

"Cross Roads," Archangel repeats, her head quirking in confusion. "That's an odd name for a healer, isn't it?"

Rapunzel forces a smile. "Not really," she says, her smile fading into a grim line. "After all, there isn't a clear-cut path that dictates what's right and what's wrong," she says, and grips Anna's shoulder, firm and defiant. "There will always be another choice to make; another road to walk and, this time, I choose to walk with the only person on this planet who never stopped trying to do what's right." She sends Archangel a withering glare. "It might be a mistake," she admits, "but I choose Arson."


	21. True Nature

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N** : Thanks again to Waela (FFnet) and Those-Who Walk-Alone (FFnet) for betaing my work.
> 
> Happy Canada Day and early Independence Day!

Six Years Ago 

"Damn it!" Calhoun cries, slamming her fists on the table projecting a three-D landscape of the warzone. The projectors sputter at the impact and, for a second, the glowing blue area flickers out. She glares at the newcomers. "I already gave you my answer," she growls, "now get the hell off my planet."

"We said we'd help you whether you agreed to become a Protector or not," Jennifer retorts in full armour, stepping out of the way of a runner. "If you'd just let us in on your plans—"

"We don't need aid from you self-entitled brats," Calhoun snarls, grabbing the worn report tablet from the runner and scanning it. Her eyes harden and, with a vicious smile, she tosses the tablet across the table; it's only saved from falling off the other side by Jennifer. "How about you deal with that?" Calhoun suggests, her cheek twitching in disgust with her forced diplomacy.

Jennifer squares her shoulders, knowing a dismissal when she hears it, but Anna places a hand on her lover's armour to stop her from retaliating. "Let me see," Anna says, her voice muffled by the impromptu full-face respirator strapped to her head.

The Protector pair had figured out too late how poisonous the air on Hero's Duty was. While Jennifer's suit protected her from that inevitability either way, Anna had started stumbling around like a drunkard, shouting things like, 'give me more beer puppies' and 'I am now a man with three breasts, known as Tri-Titties!' With Anna's immunity to toxins and a borrowed respirator she was able to sober up in less than an hour, but she doubts Jennifer—that giggling piece of shit—is going to let her live it down.

"You want us to attack a newly fortified nest?" Anna questions, reading the information through her scratched green tinted visor. She glances to Calhoun. "I thought you said fortified nests are death traps?"

"They are," Calhoun assures. "Which means, if I'm lucky, I'll never have to see you again."

Jennifer straightens, ready for a fight, but Anna bursts into laughter – boisterous enough to shock a look out of the infamous Calhoun herself.

"Oh my god, Athena," Anna chortles, grabbing the projector table to support herself. "I just realized, every meta you're recruiting as elites are cynical, jaded bastards!" she cackles. "First there was Bear," she says, counting on her fingers, "then there was Black Dragon, and now Colonel Reeves!" She gives Calhoun a weird look she doubts the other meta can see. "You aren't going to try to eat me like the other two, are you?"

Calhoun's face contorts in a mix of loathing and disgust, and her cheeks flare with ire as she throws her hand towards the exit. "Get the hell out of my base!" she roars.

Anna shrugs. "I'll take that as a 'no,'" she says, glancing at the tablet once more. "How far out do you suppose that is, Athena?" she asks.

Jennifer quirks her head and examines the information. "Not far by flight," she says. "Maybe ten minutes?"

 _Maybe by_ your _flight standards_ , Anna thinks, but keeps the thought to herself. Jennifer has been trying to teach Anna faster-than-sound travel, but every time Anna gets close she feels as if the pressure is going to rip her apart and she aborts the flight.

"And the diameter?" Anna asks. "How wide and how deep?"

Jennifer turns to Anna, her helmed head covering her judging eyes. "This scale is huge," Jennifer says, knowing Anna's thought process without it having to be explained. "Are you seriously going to go out there on the whim of a power you've never trained with?"

"I can't exactly _train_ with HF," Anna drawls, leaning her hip against the table. "We know what my limit is for sustained HFS thanks to the extra protection I added to the base—which is a substantial time, let me remind you—so I doubt one hell of an explosion will take much out of me. Blowing shit up is kinda my gig."

"Get, out," Calhoun snarls, her eyes flashing with the promise of pain.

Anna and Jennifer compete in a strange staring contest where both sets of eyes are unseen, until, with a sigh, Jennifer whispers, "For the record, I don't like this idea."

Anna snorts. "You don't have to like it," she teases, turning to Calhoun. "I'll get rid of this nest for you," she says, tapping the tablet. "Give me, say, half an hour, and I'll be back here to help with the next objective. In the meantime you can utilize her." She jabs her thumb at Jennifer.

Jennifer bulks. "I am _not_ leaving you alone," she says.

"Such little faith," Anna mutters, taking a moment to enjoy the skepticism on Calhoun's face before tapping her covered forehead in a mock salute and running out of the makeshift war room. The moment she's outside she propels herself into the sky, taking a moment to orient herself amongst the horde of invading insects, shell fire, and bullet streaks.

" _For fuck's sake_ ," Jennifer scorns, over Anna's in-ear comm. " _At least take the damn ship so you can take off your susceptible gear. The last thing we need is to destroy one of our translation devices_."

Anna blinks, forgetting about that, and opens a reply channel with her comm's weak telepathy. "Roger that, boss woman," she replies.

Jennifer huffs a long suffering sigh. " _Sometimes I wonder why I deal with you_ ," she says.

"Because you love me," Anna laughs, superheating the air around her to protect her from the nearby massive genetically engineered insects.

Jennifer hums. " _That's true_ ," she agrees. " _Alright, I sent orders to the ship; it'll be with you in a couple seconds_."

"Thanks, lover dearest," Anna teases, then yelps when the ship breaks out of hyper speed right in front of her. "Goddamn this thing is going to give me a fucking heart attack," she utters, flying to the open door and stepping in.

" _If it does, maybe it'll stop you from calling me 'dearest,'_ " Jennifer deadpans.

Anna rolls her eyes and sits in the ship's deployment zone, trusting the ship AI's piloting. "If I do there's a pretty good chance I won't be saying anything at all because, surprise, I'll be dead," she retorts, pulling off the ugly respirator.

For a long couple of seconds Jennifer doesn't reply, and then, in a soft voice, she whispers, " _Come back to me, Arson_."

Anna's heart leaps into her throat and she swallows, wanting nothing more than to kiss her girlfriend and promise that everything's going to be alright. "I'll try," she settles with, because she can't promise she'll live; no one in this profession can. "I'm taking out my comm now, but I'll check in with you once I put it back in, okay?"

" _Okay,_ " Jennifer consents, but it's strained. " _I love you_."

"I love you, too," Anna says, disconnecting from the telepathic connection and taking out the device. She grits her teeth, trying to ignore the burning in her eyes as she pulls the translation device out of her other ear.

The Protector's translation device, equipped with every language the league AI has encountered, acts as a two-way communication – both translating others and translating the wearer. The technology was a gift left in the base by Emma and, as far as the leaguers can tell, it can't be replicated; or, if it can, it's nowhere near the same quality.

Anna places both ear pieces and the respirator into a secure box and closes her eyes. The ship won't take long to get to the location, being faster than Jennifer even under atmospheric flight guidelines.

With a whir the floor in front of Anna opens, and she opens her eyes, staring at the red light above the drop area. She sucks in a deep breath and touches her mask, debating whether she should leave the fabric in place or not. Will her outfit even withstand hellfire?

The corners of Anna's eyes pinch, and she says, "Computer, draft a request to base to make my uniform withstand HF and send it if I come back stark naked." While Anna doubts James or Maleficent would do anything to fulfil the requisition—where would they even begin?—it would prompt the main computer AI to start drafting possible solutions; maybe even start locating necessary materials.

"Yes, ma'am," the AI replies, but says little else. She doesn't like talking much for an artificial intelligence, but that suits the league fine.

Anna has half the mind to ask whether or not she remembered to pack extra uniforms, but decides not to. If she still doesn't remember to carry extras after the amount of times her uniform has been ripped to shit then she deserves to run around with her butt hanging out.

With a grunt Anna pushes to her feet, her gaze alternating from the barren landscape zipping underneath and the light above her. Butterflies make themselves known in her gut, and Anna sighs. If her nerves waited this long to show up, it wouldn't have hurt them to wait a little longer.

The light turns green.

"Bombs away," Anna murmurs, hopping through the hole and falling straight towards the hive – an underground structure marked above ground only by a single tunnel.

Anna sucks in a deep breath, already feeling the tingling effects of the air in her lungs, and releases the mental barrier put forth to keep her hellfire at bay. At once it burns in the back of her throat, howling like the cries of the damned, and spills from her lips as if she had just broken a flood gate. Her fabric mask evaporates into thin air and Anna smiles, mirthless. One question answered.

Seconds before she hits the ground, hellfire rages from Anna's mouth, covering her from head to toe. The ground evaporates in her path, allowing her passage as if she were still free falling in open air.

Only when Anna breaks through to the hollowed hive does she reverse her momentum with regular fire; and she floats there, flabbergasted, at the advanced structure and mechanics keeping the fortress sturdy. It's no wonder Calhoun said these things were death traps.

Buzzing and clicking rise to deafening volumes, and Anna can't help but squeak as the insects swarm to attack her from all sides.

Hellfire roars to life in Anna's veins, responding to Anna's panic like a moth to light and, before Anna can understand what's happening, the silver laced black flames explode from her in a shockwave. There isn't an explosion, or a _boom_ , or a force that quakes the earth – there's just air screeching with the wails of the dead and the aftermath of quiet, unnatural silence.

Anna jams the mental barrier back in place and shakes her head, sucking the back of her tongue against the roof of her mouth to regain feeling in her throat.

 _Has it always been like that?_ Anna wonders, pinching her bare arm—because, as she suspected, she's naked—and frowning when she doesn't feel it. All she can still feel is the lingering thrum of hellfire in her veins, numbing her nerves and kicking her like an insane adrenaline boost.

Anna's used hellfire before, but it's never felt like this. It never felt like it was trying to consume her, eat her alive, or intoxicate her brain with drunken waves of stupidity.

Then again, the fire meta allows as she touches her head, she's never used hellfire on this scale before.

Sucking in a deep breath that does little for the poisonous burning in her lungs, Anna takes stock of her surroundings – or, should she say, the lack of them.

Anna spins in place, seeing the massive empty sphere of hollowed earth she floats in the middle of. Her heart clenches, realizing— _really_ realizing—why she's categorized as an elite; why she's one of the unofficial names on the board. Even if Anna couldn't utilize regular fire, even if she didn't have super strength, even if she didn't know more martial arts than she can count, even if her IQ dropped over a hundred fifty pegs; with hellfire, she would always be an elite, she would always be a threat.

With hellfire, Anna could kill or destroy almost everything in the galaxy, and only metas like Reaper or Archangel would be able to stop her.

Anna swallows the bile rising in the back of her throat and propels herself into the sky, waiting for the ship to come back around. Wind whips around her, blowing her loose hair into her face, in her mouth.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," Anna mutters, pushing her hair from her face. She makes a mental note to add 'hellfire proof hair ties' to the requisition list.

The ship stops dead beside Anna out of nowhere, the sound barrier breaking a second later. Anna steps onto the ship and wonders to the back, where she keeps her secured travel kit. She pauses only for a second to lean against a wall, waiting until the ship bolts into full momentum—grinding Anna's bare skin into the cold metal—before opening her bag.

Anna's vision swims and she squints, trying to find her uniform in the mess of blending colours. "Oh, fuck it," she growls, grabbing clothes that are clearly _not_ her uniform and putting them on. If she's going to use hellfire again she doesn't want to waste another uniform anyway. As an afterthought she grabs her white mask and slips it over her head, taking an extra moment to figure out how it goes without her braided hair to keep it taut.

She locks up the secure suitcase and wonders into the drop zone, heading to the secure box she put her other supplies. She stumbles like a drunkard, and she wonders how her system has been overloaded with toxins already – did using hellfire have something to do with it?

After what feels like hours, Anna finds her supplies. She puts the two devices in her ears—although she can't quite remember how to use them—and holds the borrowed full-face respirator in her hands, wondering what it's for. Before her scattered brain can determine why she has it, the ship slows to a stop.

For a second Anna can't quite remember where she was headed, but then her eyes light up with realization and she skips out of the ship, confusing more than a few hardened soldiers as she prances her way into the makeshift army camp.

Jennifer turns to Anna when she enters the command tent, and moves to turn away when her head snaps back in the fire meta's direction. "What the hell are you wearing?" she exclaims.

"Pajamas?" Anna guesses, as if it explains why she's walking into a war room wearing sandals, pink short shorts, an inside out stained green t-shirt, her white mask, and her hair flowing loose behind her.

"Yeah, I see that," Jennifer says, "but _why?_ "

"Because using HF burned all my clothes off, that's why," Anna replies, spying Calhoun gaping at her. Anna sends her a groggy wave. "Hey, Reeves. The nest is gone."

Calhoun blinks. "Gone?" she questions, staring at Anna as if she's lost her mind. Anna half wonders if she actually has.

Anna giggles, swaying back and forth like an intoxicated sailor. "Oh yeah, that thing is _gone_ ," she cackles, mimicking an explosion with her hands and sending the poor respirator in her grip flying. "Boom boom motherfuckers."

"Okay," Jennifer drones, picking up the mask and shoving it over her girlfriend's head. "Do me a favour and sit over there until your system flushes all the toxins you inhaled."

"Oh, also give me a mask for my vagina," Anna says, pointing. "Don't want toxic air getting up there, ya know— whoa!" she cries out, then chortles as Jennifer manhandles her to the corner of the room and forces her into a chair.

"Stay," Jennifer commands, wagging an armoured finger in Anna's face.

Anna guffaws, grabbing hold of the finger much like a baby would. "You fuck me with that mouth?" she asks, squealing peals of laughter as Jennifer jabs her free hand into her side.

"Keep quiet until you're sober and I will," Jennifer promises, low enough for only Anna to hear.

Anna's breath hitches, so zonked she can actually feel her pupils dilating, and she nods.

"What does she mean the nest is gone?" Calhoun demands, as gruff as ever. "She was gone less than ten minutes; that shouldn't have been enough time to get there and back, let alone lay siege to an underground fortress."

"Arson's firepower is more expansive than any weapon in your army," Jennifer explains, wiggling her finger out of Anna's grip. "It took a lot out of her, as you can see, but I suspect that nest was gone mere seconds after her arrival."

Calhoun's irises flash, the cogs in her head spinning battle plans right before their eyes. "How?" she asks, her fingers twitching with the effort to keep still.

"Arson has a special ability codenamed 'HF,'" Jennifer says, her tone guarded. "It's a power so dangerous that she shouldn't even be using it. The fact she resorted to it at all tells me how much she wants to help you, but let me make something clear," she clips, as hard as steel. "I won't let you take advantage of Arson's kindness, and I won't let you use her like a weapon. From here on out, HF is off limits. No ifs, no buts, no negotiation. I won't have my teammate kill herself for an army who doesn't give a shit if she lives or dies. Am I understood?"

Calhoun scowls. "HF sounds like the only worthwhile ability you're offering, and yet it's 'off limits'?" she snarls.

"Yes," Jennifer snaps. "And if our other abilities aren't enough for you and your non-meta soldiers, I'll grab Arson and leave right here, right now." She gestures to the fire meta, whose head is lulled back and her body slack. "Whether she wants to help or not, she isn't in a state to contest my authority over the matter."

Calhoun's jaw hardens and she glances at the soldiers around her, most too focused on their jobs to pay attention to the squabble, but the ones who do stare at her with pleading eyes.

Calhoun grits her teeth and pinches the bridge of her nose. Including her, there are only thirty native metas on the planet, all with the same ability – the power to summon weapons and armour out of thin air. Despite the perks of such an ability, it's limited by the fact that the weapons and armour are stagnant – once the meta reaches their full physical and mental potential their powers stop advancing, and they're left with whatever arsenal they've developed up until that point. That would have been fine, if the insects weren't evolving left and right, each generation more resistant than the last.

"Fine, _fine_ ," Calhoun spits, pressing the heel of her palm into her temple. "You can stay and help, but don't expect me to coddle your civilian asses."

"We may have never fought in a war before," Jennifer says, "but that doesn't mean we're civilians."

Calhoun scowls. "I don't need your hero spiel, okay?" she snaps, waving her hand at Jennifer. "You stand there all tall and mighty like you're better than us; talking from a moral high ground and acting like you know better when you haven't been in this hell more than a day. Maybe staying here might show you some humility."

Anger flares in Anna's chest and she stands, pointing an aggressive, unfocused finger at Calhoun. "Are you suggesting that I don't know what hell is?" she shouts, slurred.

"Arson, stop," Jennifer clips, blocking Anna's path with her arm.

"No," Anna spits, shoving her girlfriend's arm out of the way and stumbling to the projection table, using it to steady herself. "Do you think this is the only type of hell?" she barks. "Do you think the only type of despair is in a desperate war that never looks like it's going to end? Because it's not. It's not!" she roars, when Calhoun opens her mouth to retaliate. Anna slams a hand on her chest. "Do you know what's it's like being revered as a hero when you know truth of what it's like?

"Because I've murdered people!" Anna screams, ripping off the respirator and launching it at Calhoun – who only has time to counter because of Anna's sluggish limbs. Calhoun stares, flabbergasted, at the tears in Anna's eyes, at the wetness glistening on her cheeks, at the dampness of her mask. "I see the headlines, 'Arson saves city from villain,'" Anna says, "but they never go into details. They never talk about the blood, or the pain, or how I dispose of them. The articles are always so polite, talking about how great and humble I am, and how they can sleep easy knowing I'm protecting them; but they never say _how_ I'm protecting them.

"I know I'm helping," Anna bellows, her voice cracking and her fingers digging into her shirt, "but I don't feel like a hero. I don't feel noble, or honourable, or an icon people should look up to. I feel like I'm drowning in a river of ghosts – all the faces of the people I've killed all mixing together as they scream at me, telling me it wasn't necessary, that I could have found another way.

"But it _was_ necessary and there _wasn't_ another way and it _needed_ to be done," Anna cries, her shoulders shaking. "I take on that burden because I don't want anyone else's conscience to be sullied; not because I want praise or attention or a _goddamn_ pat on the back. I'm not a hero because I'm pure; I'm a hero because I do what needs to be done, no matter the cost to myself.

"And _you_ ," Anna roars, her manic eyes boring into Calhoun's, "have the audacity to think we don't know hell? You shoot at _bugs_ ," she snarls. "The only faces you see are the one of the soldiers you've lost! Do you even know what it's like—"

Jennifer places her hands on Anna's shoulders, rubbing the clothed skin with her thumbs. "That's enough, Arson," she whispers, resting her helmed chin on Anna's head. "It's okay."

"No, it's not," Anna sobs, ducking her head to hide the pitiful contorting of her features.

"You're right, it's not," Jennifer relents, "but we'll get through it." Gentle, to keep Anna from freaking out again, Jennifer picks up the fire meta and cradles her in her arms. "Let's get you to the ship," she murmurs, "it can filter the air for you so you don't have to wear that mask." She doesn't mention that 'that mask' was destroyed when Calhoun blocked its bullet-like momentum.

Anna buries her face in Jennifer's armour, her body trembling.

Jennifer turns to Calhoun. "Excuse us," she clips, and exits the room before the other meta can respond.

The heaven meta all but marches back to the ship, her pissed off aura making even veteran soldiers scramble out of her way.

"Athena!" an armour muffled voice calls from behind them. "Athena, wait!" they call again, when Jennifer doesn't respond.

Jennifer whirls, shoving her armoured forehead into Calhoun's with a deafening _clang_.

"Haven't you done enough damage?" Jennifer growls, curling into a protective hunch over the meta clinging to her chest. "Leave us alone and let me deal with it," she snaps, turning heel and stomping away.

Off to the side, Anna hears a soldier murmur to another, 'did that off-worlder just head butt the colonel?'

"At least hear me out," Calhoun says, continuing to follow despite the show of aggression.

Jennifer growls; the type of growl she usually reserves for James when he royally pisses her off. "I'm warning you, Reeves," Jennifer snarls, "back off."

"Not until you agree to listen," Calhoun refutes, and Jennifer spins, ready to drop the materialization meta right then and there, until Anna whispers:

"Let her on the ship."

Jennifer looks at the shaking bundle in her arms. "Excuse me?" she asks, scandalized.

"She won't speak freely in front of her soldiers," Anna mutters, "and she wouldn't have followed you if she didn't want to talk, so let her."

Jennifer hisses out a frustrated breath. "Logical even when your brain's half fucked, eh?" she asks, rhetorical, before continuing to the ship. "Follow if you want," she says, louder; her pride not allowing her to put words to an official invitation.

Calhoun does, and she waits while Jennifer lays Anna on a makeshift bed and covers her with a blanket.

"Atmospheric filtration complete," the AI says, making Calhoun jump.

"It's fine," Jennifer utters, removing her right gauntlet with a pressurized _hiss_. "It's just the ship's computer. Now what'd you want?"

"Uh," Calhoun airs, staring as Jennifer remains kneeling by Anna's bedside and strokes the fire meta's cheek underneath the fabric mask. "Right," she says, clearing her throat and shaking her head. Her armour disintegrates into thin air, allowing the Protectors to see her once more. "I wanted to apologise for my rash assumption earlier."

"Is that all?" Jennifer murmurs, her fingers tangling in the air at the base of Anna's neck. Anna hums in approval. "I'd of thought you'd have something more urgent to discuss."

"Heh, yeah, well— alright, I have to ask," Calhoun says, pointing at the Protector pair, "are you two together?"

Jennifer sighs. "Yeah," she says. "I prefer people not knowing we date, as heroes, for safety reasons, but we weren't exactly subtle, were we?"

Calhoun cracks an unsure smile. "I wouldn't have guessed till now, so I don't know," she says.

"Oh my god," Anna slurs, reaching out and planting her hand square on Jennifer's face with a solid slap, "am I gay?"

Jennifer laughs and removes her girlfriend's hand. "As far as I'm aware," she chortles, intertwining Anna's fingers with her own.

"Wow," Anna airs, her eyes slipping closed, "you learn something new every day."

Calhoun's eyebrows raise. "How could she get this wasted in ten minutes?" she asks. Her lip curls and she sniffs, noticing the different air quality for the first time. "Ew," she says. "You breathe this?"

Jennifer laughs. "You get used to it," she chuckles, glancing from Calhoun to Anna. "As for being high off her rocker," she says, her tone falling sober, "I'm assuming it has to do with her usage of HF combined with the natural toxicity in your air." She sighs and leans forward, resting her head on Anna's stomach. "I suspected something like this would happen if the HF scale was high enough, but I failed to factor in this planet's gases. If I had, I wouldn't have let her go."

"I don't think you could have stopped her either way," Calhoun says, a weird expression contorting her features as Anna pats Jennifer's helmed head with her free hand, saying 'tis kay kitty kitty, me love kitty kitty.'

"Oh trust me, if I wanted to stop her I _could_ stop her," Jennifer assures, nuzzling into Anna's hand; causing the redhead to coo at her. "But I don't think I would," she relents, and chuckles; dry and mirthless. "God, what has this woman done to me?"

"I made you a sweet wittle kitty!" Anna declares, far louder than necessary, and taps Jennifer's head for good measure.

Calhoun grins. "A 'wittle kitty,' eh?" she asks.

"Shut up," Jennifer snaps.

* * *

Present Day 

Anna lays on a bed in the infirmary, a mobile base console resting against her bent legs. On it plays Athena's contingency message for the fifth time in a row.

" _I'll see you when your time comes, love, but live for the both of us in the meantime, okay?" Jennifer pauses, and adds, "I love you."_

Anna sucks in a harsh breath, letting the tears overwhelm her once more as she tips her head to the wall and stares at the ceiling. She had been trying to work herself up to watching the other contingency messages—general, personal, didn't matter—but all she can appear to do is watch the same heartbreaking message over and over again, because at least she knows what to expect.

She glances to the bed beside her, staring at the steady rise and fall of Megara's chest. Megara's been like this for the better part of twelve hours, a condition explained by the feverish gleam to her skin and the reediness of her breathing; she came into contact with Anna's blood.

Of course, they couldn't tell the league that. Belle, after giving Anna one hell of a scolding, had said Megara's condition has something to do with Anna's new powers; which wasn't exactly a lie, but close to it.

Huffing a sigh through her nose, Anna turns back to her tablet and goes back to the contingency message selection screen, and taps on the folder for general messages. Her fingers hover over the names, wanting nothing more than to smash the console into a thousand pieces, yet she refrains. Seeing Emma again and suffering through those resultant memories made Anna realize that suppressing her memories and avoiding the things that give her pain leave her vulnerable, which is the last thing she needs.

"Okay, I got this," Anna whispers, hovering her finger over Hades' name – if Jane was telling the truth then this message is pure information, which Anna can handle. Probably.

With a quick flick of the wrist, she selects the message and folds her hands over her stomach, waiting for the pain she knows is coming.

Hades relaxes in a chair, picking his ear with his pinkie. He glances at something above the camera and grunts, sitting upright and flicking the earwax off his finger.

He wears his classic black battle scarred armour, covering his body in metal, chainmail and leather – aside from his face. While one can make out the black metal band worn on his forehead and his glowing green eyes, the rest of his features are shrouded in black mist.

" _This was recorded before us five elites embark on a hit-and-run Intel mission to the Ambassador fleet_ ," Hades says, a lazy drawl to his words. " _I'd like to think it'll go off without a hitch, but if you're watching this_. . ." the elite shrugs, not finishing the thought. " _Anyway, if this is playing I'm dead or presumed dead and you lot have been left to deal with those Ambassador scum without me – or maybe another threat has shown up, who knows. Either way, I can't comfort you or tell you it's going to be alright because, frankly, I don't know your circumstances_."

Anna smiles despite the hollow ache in her heart. James was never very good at consoling people.

" _I can't inspire hope in you like Athena or Arson can_ ," Hades continues, " _or tell you everything can be overcome like Bear can, and I can't tell you to fuck off like Black Dragon because I'm not quite so rude_."

Anna bursts into laughter, unable to help herself.

" _The truth of the matter is that someone or something took me down, and I no longer possess the ability to give you accurate information_ ," Hades adds, somber. " _The only thing I can do is reveal information the old elites and I have kept hidden, even from the junior leaguers. Sure the little squirts had an idea of what was going on, three of them were kidnapped by the Ambassadors at one point, after all, but I can't say for certain that they survived the aftermath of this mission. If any of us survived_.

" _Maybe the Ambassadors are no longer a threat_ ," Hades relents, getting himself back on track, " _or at least you believe that to be the case, or maybe you already know what I'm about to tell you, but I'm going to tell you anyway. So here we go; as most of you are aware, the Ambassadors came to Earth three months prior to this recording. They got into the good graces of every country on the planet with their talks of serenity and peace, but it was all an act. I know because the other elites and I have thwarted uncountable attempts by the Ambassadors to control Earth and turn its population into pawns_."

Anna's eyes harden. Jane was right after all.

" _The Ambassadors are a violent, conquering race with aspirations to take over the Sol system to exploit the resources of our planets_ ," Hades growls, his eyes hardening. " _If they could, they would have drained all of the other planets in Sol before coming to Earth, but they hadn't anticipated Calhoun's extended network, which covers multiple solar systems and continues to expand to this day. The AI warned us of the fleet's arrival into our solar system and Black Dragon, Athena, and I set out to derail them. We succeeded, in a sense, but we failed to take into account their political nature until they appeared before Earth, working to get into our world's good graces before the league even knew what was happening_.

" _Now, three months later_ ," he sighs, running his leather gloved fingers through his misting hair, " _the Ambassadors have succeeded in tying the league's hands. There's no move we can make against them without losing public support; not unless we can recover hard evidence of their actions to show the public, which is our current mission. The one I most likely never came back from_.

" _The point is, no matter what you heroes have come to believe_ ," Hades says, " _you have to know that the Ambassadors were_ not _a nice, peaceful race; and whatever I or the other elites may or may not have done to them . . . well, I can't say it was for the greater good, but the Ambassadors deserve whatever's coming to them. If they're dead, good riddance. If they've fled, prepare for their counter strike. If they're still around,_ hit them where it hurts."

Anna clenches her jaw.

" _If your enemy isn't the Ambassadors at all_ ," Hades continues, " _then take everything you learn with a grain of salt. It's rare that you'll ever encounter a case that's clean cut. After all, the Ambassadors seemed nice enough on the surface. Chances are someone will use this same deception to make you believe what isn't true—or maybe they already have—and they might be even better at it then the Ambassadors; just be sure to see through it before it's too late, lest you make the same mistakes we did. Good luck_."

For a long couple seconds Anna just stares at the still screen, wondering why she feels as if she's been stabbed in the chest.

"Someone will use the same deception, eh?" Anna murmurs, wondering if James had any idea that that person would be her, only used in reverse. She goes back to the selection screen and stares, wondering which one she should torture herself with next. "Well, I already know what mine says," she murmurs, remembering it being something about unity and family and sticking together – all things she doesn't want to hear herself say, considering where she ended up.

In the end Anna selects Maleficent, because if there's anyone Anna can count on for being a heartless asshole, it'd be her.

Black Dragon, wearing a shimmering black dress covered in glistening black dragon bone armour, stares directly into the camera. She wears a black dragon bone crown, which doubles as facial armour – curling around her eyes, down her nose, hiding her cheeks and framing her mouth.

" _This message was recorded before the elite's rescue mission of Arson and Hades_ ," Black Dragon says; stoic, emotionless. " _If you're watching this, then something has gone terribly wrong. You know the details, not I, so I won't presume to know what has happened; all I_ do _know is that I'm dead. Whether that matters or not is up to you_." She waves a dismissive hand. " _I'm not the most liked hero out there, and I won't pretend otherwise. Sure the loss of my power to aid the league will be a bit of a blow, but it won't be the end of the world_.

" _As for whatever hardships facing you now, well_ "—Black Dragon twitches an empty smile—" _I can't say I care_."

Anna chokes a surprised laugh, and then smiles, tears misting in her eyes. The fact that Maleficent's aloofness shocks her at all is a testament to how much time has passed.

" _Not because I wish to be cruel_ ," Black Dragon says, " _but because it doesn't matter what advice I give; my words will be outdated the moment this recording is finished being made. I can't give you my guidance because I don't know who's dead and who's alive. I don't know which metas make up the league now and frankly, I don't give a shit_.

" _I don't care whether you're good people or bad people, or whether or not you've been able to maintain the league's positive reputation_ ," the hero continues. " _What you've done and what you do are based on your decisions and yours alone, and can hardly be influenced by a dead hero no one knew whether they should like or hate. So my advice is this, and this alone; no matter who you choose to be, benevolent or malicious, make sure the choices you make are ones you can live with and, if there's a decision you must make that you_ can't _live with, make sure whatever choice you make is for the right reasons_." Black Dragon smiles, predatory. " _Welcome to the world of elites_."

Anna frowns and tosses the tablet to the foot of the bed, almost regretting her decision to face her fears. In the time since their deaths, Anna had almost forgotten how perceptive the old elites could be without even trying.

With a sigh, Anna leaps off the bed and scoops up the mobile console, logging herself out as she heads to the place it secures into the wall.

"You did well, Anna," Calhoun praises from the room's speakers, low enough not to startle the fire meta.

"Did I?" Anna murmurs, putting the tablet back in its place and turning around, staring at Megara once more.

"Yeah, you did," Calhoun confirms, and Anna hums, only half paying attention. "She'll be fine," Calhoun continues, when she notices Anna's line of sight. "Belle's confident Megara will wake up before the away team arrives."

 _Eleven hours_ , Anna thinks, wincing at the thought of Kida, Axe, and that damn dragon roaming around the base.

"Anna?" Calhoun asks, when no response is forthcoming.

"I'm fine," Anna mumbles, even if it's a clear lie – she's never 'fine'. "How far along are Rapunzel and Ariel?" she asks, not wanting Calhoun to continue the previous line of questioning.

"They're almost done," Calhoun says, allowing the redirection.

Rubbing the back of her neck, Anna walks back to the bed she's called her own for the past couple hours and sits on the edge, kicking her legs at empty air. She sucks in a deep breath. "So-o-o," she says, drawing out the word, "what you said in the docking bay – is it true?"

"I— you're going to have to be more specific than that," Calhoun says, a frown in her tone.

"About the reason you still gave me access to the league network and supplies after the first Incident," Anna clarifies. "Was— was it him?"

Calhoun sighs. "Yeah," she confirms, almost sounding ashamed. "He'd called a week or so after the initial destruction. In retrospect, I know that means it was after— after— I'm sorry, Anna, I should have known."

Anna shakes her head, her chest clenching at the mere reference to _that_. "Don't," she says, her voice strained. "I'm sorry, but I've dealt with those memories one too many times today."

"Okay," Calhoun whispers, and goes quiet once more.

Anna closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. The last thing she wants to be is an ass to the last person she has from the days of the old elites, but she can't deny that she's dealt with more of her past in one day than she has in four years.

Megara groans and Anna opens her eyes, watching, silent, as the strength meta stirs in her sleep. Megara's eyebrows pinch and sweat drips down her forehead as she curls into a ball on her side, shivering with a phantom chill. She's fighting a minor death lull, Anna knows, and scolds herself for not telling Rapunzel about her extended abilities earlier – maybe then Anna could have trained her to deal with this.

Then again, maybe not. Anna tilts her head and stares at the ceiling. Most of the plans the old elites had involving Rapunzel's training revolved around Jennifer. The only time the other elites would have been included were during mock battles where Rapunzel would've had to keep up with all the injuries.

Anna leans back on her elbows, considering venturing into the planning room to gather Rapunzel's file. Maybe it would have a clue of Jennifer's training plans that Anna doesn't remember.

"Anna?" a groggy voice croaks.

Anna blinks and sits upright, staring at Megara still curled into a ball, but with one eye cracked open. "Uh, yeah, hey," Anna says, with a stupid little wave that makes her wince. She can't act normal for once around this woman, can she?

Megara groans and covers her head with her forearms. "What happened?" she moans.

"You sent me into a panic attack that activated repressed meta abilities, apparently," Anna says, with a shrug. "We don't know what I did to you, but I can't say you didn't have it coming."

"This, coming from you?" Megara asks, choking a dry laugh.

Anna clenches her jaw. "Yeah," she snarls. "This, coming from a non-meta at the time you assaulted and threatened to torture me."

Megara cracks a pained grin. "Yeah," she says, shameless, "but didn't you have it coming?"

This. _This_ is why Hercules is the only hero Anna's afraid will be the one to kill her; because it won't be quick, it won't be painless, it won't be the release she craves. Megara would make Anna remember everything she's desperately trying to forget; would keep her alive for years until she gets whatever satisfaction she longs for.

"So you think it's alright to do whatever you want to people who can't fight back?" Anna snaps, her eyes hardening.

"If they're guilty, then sure," Megara replies, her state of mental dishevel not allowing her to filter her responses.

"Pray tell," Anna grits, standing and glaring down her nose at the injured meta, "how do you determine someone's guilt?"

Megara chuckles, raspy. "You think you're innocent?" she asks, humoured for a reason Anna can't fathom.

"Whether I am or not isn't the point," Anna snarls. "The point is that you _assigned_ me guilt based on the sole fact that I know Arson's identity and I didn't tell anyone what it was _without_ determining the circumstances of my decision. Do you know who does that? Villains."

Megara lowers her forearm and squints against the light to look Anna in the eye. "What are you accusing me of?" she asks.

"Of being an asshole, among other things," Anna retorts, not wanting to delve too deep in a conversation that'd set either of them off.

Megara's gaze flicks away, thoughtful. Two opposing options war in her eyes and, being unfiltered, Anna recognizes them both.

"You sick fuck," Anna spits, resisting the urge to break the other meta's fingers.

"What?" Megara exclaims, as loud as her condition allows. "I didn't say anything!"

"No, but I know that look," Anna growls, backing away. "That look," Anna repeats, with a reprimanding finger point, "is the look of"— _Reaper_ —"someone who only obeys moral structures out of vague sense of obligation."

"What game are you playing at?" Megara asks, struggling into a seated position.

"I don't play games," Anna retorts. "I do what needs to be done because it's necessary. Sometimes doing that drags me into some pretty dark situations, but I never forget who I am, or my oaths, or the person I want to be when it's all said and done. Good people can do bad things for good reasons and still be a good person, but if a good person does bad things when a better alternative is available and would lead to the same effect, they won't be."

Megara frowns. "If you're talking about earlier, I only roughed you up," she says. "No harm came of it, besides your overreaction."

Ire rushes from Anna's chest into her limbs, her fingers trembling with the force of it. "Are you fucking _kidding_ me?" she roars, her eyes alight with the promise of pain. "You manhandled me _knowing_ I have PTSD and sent me into a panic attack—"

"It's not my problem you don't take your medication," Megara interrupts, and shrugs. "Besides, you had it coming."

Something in Anna's brain snaps.

"Had it coming?" Anna seethes. "I had it coming by just _existing?_ " she laughs, with a wicked, demented grin. "So I guess Kida had it coming, too. I mean, it's not Red Arson's fault Kida didn't take her chill pill that morning."

She went too far, Anna knows she did, but she can't find it within herself to care.

Megara pushes herself upright, swaying back and forth. "Take that back," she snarls, her cheeks flushing an angry crimson.

The med bay door opens and Rapunzel steps through. "Hey, Anna, we're— oh," she says, her gaze flicking between the furious metas. "Are . . . you two okay?"

"No," Anna growls, "but we're done here." She turns heel and storms towards the exit.

"Stop right there, I'm not done with you!" Megara barks.

"Why?" Anna roars, whirling on the strength meta. "I'm not going to stand here while you shout at me about how I don't have a right to defend myself. Get your head out of your goddamn ass and straighten out your inane logic and _then_ I'll consider fucking talk to you."

Rapunzel's eyes harden and she glares at Megara.

"We need to know the identity of Arson and you know it!" Megara yells, spittle flying from her mouth.

Anna's body burns with hatred, the skin from her neck upwards flushing crimson. "So instead of being a decent human being and _talking_ to me and _figuring out why_ I haven't told you, you decide manhandling or torture is the way to go?" she bellows.

Malice flashes in Rapunzel's eyes and she scowls at Megara. "And you wonder why I hate you," she snarls.

Megara straightens her shoulders. "Oh, so you two are suddenly best fucking friends now?" she accuses. "Because I clearly remember you ranting about how she's a brutal monster who doesn't deserve sympathy."

Anna sends Rapunzel a look.

"My initial assessment was hasty, as was yours," Rapunzel retorts, unfazed. "The fact that you are unwilling to change says more about you than your first impression."

Anna's expression softens and she lays a calming hand on Rapunzel's shoulder, the fire in her bones abiding at the fierce support. "Come, Roads," she murmurs, "we have a promise to keep. No need to delay, yeah?"

Rapunzel turns to Anna meet her gaze, searching. Anna smiles, reassuring. The harshness of Rapunzel's eyes fade and she nods, leaving the room without another word. Anna sends Megara one last lingering look before exiting herself, shutting the door behind her.

Ariel, waiting in the hall wearing a sports bra and workout shorts, perks when she spots her fellow redhead. "What was that about?" she asks, scooping Anna into a wet hug that Anna returns without qualms.

"A disagreement in morals," Anna hums, burying her nose in Ariel's shoulder. After a second she notices something strange, and asks, "You don't smell like sweat, so why are you damp?"

Rapunzel rolls her eyes. "After we finished training she cleaned the grime off us with water, but she didn't dispel all the water from herself," she drones.

"It makes me glisten," Ariel chirps, and Anna grins, her hold on Ariel tightening.

"Of course it does," Anna says, unable, and unwilling, to stop the affection in her voice.

Ariel presses a kiss to Anna's hairline and steps back, her eyes shining with something Anna can only describe as adoration.

Rapunzel sends Anna a look. "I thought you had a thing for Elsa?" she asks.

"I do," Anna replies, at the same time Ariel says:

"She has all the things for Elsa."

Anna rolls her eyes and interlaces her fingers with Ariel's, much to the joy of the marine meta, who grins like an adorable dope.

At first Anna didn't think she'd be able to give Ariel the physical affection she needs, but the fire meta adapted to it faster than she thought she would. Not because Anna has made any significant progress with her repressed emotional issues, but because she realized that none of Ariel's advances were sexual. While Ariel's actions are interpreted in human culture as something a lover might do, on Trideum it's common and expected, like saying 'please' or 'thank you'.

"So, Ariel," Anna says, changing the topic, "Rapunzel and I are going to see Calhoun. Wanna come?"

Ariel squeals and Anna shields her closest ear with her free hand out of instinct, but a warm smile graces her lips regardless.

"Yes!" Ariel cheers, capturing Anna's lips with her own. "Yes, yes, yes"—she murmurs, between kisses—"a thousand times, yes."

Rapunzel openly gawks at the display. "Why is she acting as if you just asked her to marry you?" she stage whispers.

"She's just excited," Anna dismisses, her eyes shining with delight.

Rapunzel's gaze flicks between the two metas. "Are— are you two . . . together?" she asks.

"Hm? Oh, no," Anna says, and sends Ariel a beseeching look. Ariel tilts her head, her pupils as round as pleading kitten's, and she nods. Anna beams, her chest warming with pride. "Ariel's people gain love and affection through touch," Anna begins in an explanation long overdue, turning her sights back to Rapunzel. "In her culture holding hands, hugging, kissing, and sex are the equivalent of us saying, 'you are appreciated' or 'you are loved' or 'you deserve happiness.'

"The only difference is that words without actions don't mean anything to her people or, if there is an action, it means more than the words," Anna continues. "So, for example, if you say, 'of course I care about you' but you keep your distance, you're essentially telling her she's not worth your time or your effort, which translates in her brain as her being a horrible person. On the flip side— uh, are you okay?"

Rapunzel waves off Anna's concern despite the sickly pale complexion of her face. "But she visited her people all the time, right?" she asks, shaky. "So— so her mental health is still steady, yeah?"

"Uuh," Anna falters, looking to Ariel for guidance.

"I don't originate from Earth," Ariel says, taking the pressure off the fire master. "I came here two years ago after some unfortunate events took place on my planet. When I went on my 'ocean vacations' you had all just assumed I was going back to friends and family, but I was just hanging out with dolphins or whales or whatever, because at least they paid attention to me."

Anna winces, her grip on Ariel's hand tightening. Ariel rubs small circles on Anna's skin, a gentle confirmation that she's alright.

"So, and be frank," Rapunzel says, a croaky quality to her voice, "does that mean we've been torturing you since the moment you got here?"

Ariel rubs the back of her neck, her gaze flicking to the wall. "I wouldn't go that far," she says, hesitant, "but it was . . . demoralizing. To be honest I would have killed myself a dozen times over if not for, well, an old promise of finding home." She laughs, but Anna can tell it's a sore subject for her. "It's easier now that I have Anna," she says, nudging said meta with her shoulder, "but I won't lie; it still hurts. I . . . I don't know if it will ever stop hurting." She winces.

Anna rests her head on Ariel's shoulder and wraps her free arm around the alien's stomach. Ariel nuzzles her nose in Anna's hair and touches her arm in a silent thank you.

Rapunzel forces herself to release a slow, controlled breath. "Why is it," she utters, to Anna, "that every time I turn around I learn a new truth that tells me you're the real good guy, and the league is just a joke?"

 _I don't feel like the good guy_ , Anna thinks, yet only shrugs in response. This is an old topic, one she's never found a resolution to.

In a sudden burst of resolve Rapunzel steps forward and grabs Ariel's arm. "You have to promise me," Rapunzel says, "that whatever you learn about Anna from here on out won't make you regress. _Please_."

Ariel smiles. "I'm with Anna for the long haul whether she likes it or not," she assures, throwing Anna a cheeky grin.

Rapunzel's eyebrows furrow, unconvinced.

Anna lays a hand on Rapunzel's lower back and leads them all away from the med bay doors. "Don't worry, Rapunzel," Anna murmurs, almost too low to be heard. "She knows who I am."

"She— what?" Rapunzel sputters, her eyebrows shooting into her hairline. "You told her?"

Anna cracks a grin. "Not exactly," she hinges.

Ariel leans over, her chin close to poking Anna in the ear. "I took a lighter to her fingers," she says, an amused crinkle to the corners of her eyes.

"I . . . can't even say I'm surprised," Rapunzel says, even though her expression remains dumbfounded.

Anna laughs and stops the group in front of an unsuspecting section of wall. "She suspected who I was before she did it," she says, placing her hand on the metal.

"I still don't know how anyone else hasn't figure it out," Ariel chortles, ducking her head to kiss Anna on the jaw. "No offence, but you don't try to hide it."

"I don't make it obvious, either," Anna replies, watching as a small section of wall pulls in and slides aside. "You should give yourself more credit."

Ariel hums. "I'll give Rapunzel and Belle credit," she says, with a lopsided grin. "Their behaviour was the biggest hint."

Anna rolls her eyes. "Maybe so, but no one else caught on," she says, leading them through a narrow hallway.

"Many of the heroes here wouldn't _want_ to catch on," Ariel says, as if it were common fact. "They have a lot of experience with Arson that makes them more blind to the obvious than I."

"Your experiences with Arson weren't a walk in the park, either," Anna says. Curiosity fills her and she sends Ariel a look. "Why aren't you biased against me?"

Ariel's lips twist, uncertainty marring her features. Is this a sore subject, too? "I've never really hated anyone," she says, a phrase she's used before but surprised Anna all the same. "The most extreme negative emotion I think I've had was towards Dark Templar – the meta responsible for my parents' deaths. I didn't like him, but I didn't _not_ like him, either; it was more of a keen distrust."

Anna frowns. "So what was I to you?" she asks, noticing that Ariel didn't actually answer the question.

Ariel shrugs, an uneasy scrunch of her nose. "You were . . ." she hesitates, her gaze flicking to the ceiling. "You were a possibility."

"A possibility?" Anna repeats. "How do you mean?"

Ariel cracks an unsettled grin and rubs the nape of her neck. "Often times people on this planet aren't who they appear to be," she says, but Anna gets the feeling that it's nowhere near the whole story. Ariel's smile fades, taking Anna aback. "I was under the impression that coming to Earth would be . . . different. That I wouldn't have to be alone." She grins but, this time, Anna can see the damage it tries to hide. "Do you remember the first time we fought?"

Anna frowns, wanting to push the subject but not wanting to shove Ariel into turbulent seas. Anna knows she wouldn't want anyone doing it to herself. "Yeah," the villain replies, allowing the subject to drop. "Besides blocking or dodging all my attacks, you kept laughing like we were engaged in a weird form of foreplay. When I did land a hit—" Anna falters, the memory filtering through her brain like a scratched DVD. "You stared into my eyes, smiled, and said, 'I like you.'"

Ariel hums, pleased. "Your eyes widened so fast I thought they were going to pop out of your head," she says, with a giggle. "Then you started sputtering, turned beat red, and you all like, 'do you know who I am?' It was adorable. Tragic, but adorable."

Anna eyes Ariel out of the corner of her eye. "You were trying to court Arson," she realizes.

"Atlantians don't court, we befriend," Ariel corrects, and shrugs when both Anna and Rapunzel send her a look. "But yeah, I was trying to befriend you," the marine meta admits.

"Why?" Anna asks. "Out of everyone on Earth, why would you pick the one with the worst reputation?"

"I didn't pick you based on your reputation," Ariel counters, "I picked you based on your eyes." She smiles, soft and sincere. "You can't hide how caring you truly are underneath it all, not from me."

Anna rolls a shoulder, uneasy. "We're here," she says, changing the topic. The last thing she wants is people knowing just how much she cares, despite how she acts. She cares so much it hurts, even through the layers of emotional numbing she stuffed her soul with to fix the holes.

A panel and slots open beside the wall at the end of the dead-end hallway.

"Give me a moment," Anna murmurs, releasing Ariel's hand and stepping up to the verifier. She sticks her arms in the holes up to her elbows and grabs the handles on the inside. The panel beeps and Anna's arms are clamped into place with enough force to make even her wince. A light whir sounds. "Oh, I hate this part," she utters, when 'Identified – Arson, E-0-5. Verification Activated.'

Multiple needles pierce Anna's skin, and she squeals when a cold liquid is pumped into her system, chilling her veins.

Rapunzel holds out an arm to stop Ariel from interfering, but she looks just as uneasy. "What's going on, Anna?" the healer asks.

"My identity is being established through a method no one else would survive," Anna says, her vision already starting to spin. "It was a different method for all of the old elites, but for me it's injected poison or fire. Hellfire smoke used to be an option, too, but—" she pales. "Calhoun, you removed the HFS portion from my verification, didn't you?"

"Uuh," Calhoun hinges, "no?"

"Calhoun!" Anna barks, her tongue so numb she almost bites it. "Remove it _now_."

"This process has nothing to do with me," Calhoun says, defending herself. "Your old AI still operates the majority of the base – I'm just an elite user who's always in the system and overriding things as I see fit."

"Then override it this instant!" Anna demands, her words garbled and her knees struggling to keep her upright.

"Unnecessary," a tinny voice replies, one Anna hasn't heard since Calhoun's installation.

"Computer?" Anna asks, and wonders why the old AI was never named.

"I am aware of what using HFS would do to you," the computer says, sounding disgruntled for having to talk at all.

Anna blinks, slow and sluggish. "Oh, good," she slurs. After a moment she bares her teeth at the panel. "If you know who I am already why the hell are you still poisoning me?"

In lieu of a response Anna's arms are released and ejected sending her stumbling into Ariel's arms.

"I— I'm getting an error message," Calhoun says, confused.

"After _that_ you're getting an _error message?_ " Rapunzel snaps, spreading her magic in Anna's system; although Anna's not quite sure how it's going to help. As far as Anna's aware, Rapunzel only knows how to repair damage that's already been done, not protect or aid in damage that's going to come.

"I'm not getting an error for Anna," Calhoun clarifies, "I'm getting an error for _you two_."

"Shut up, I'm trying to sleep!" Anna shouts, throwing a limp arm over her eyes.

"How?" Rapunzel questions, ignoring the delusional meta. "We weren't even tested."

"Yeah, that's the problem," Calhoun says. "Anyone who enters my storage chamber—among other rooms—have to go through verification, but in most cases the minimum level of requirement is elite level access. You two are just full members."

"You can't bypass it?" Ariel questions, cradling Anna's head in her lap.

"As savvy as I am, I can't compete against an actual AI," Calhoun says. "Anna has a high enough intelligence to do it but she's not exactly in a state to do anything."

Rapunzel glances into the lens of the closest camera. "Don't tell me Anna's an intelligence meta, too," she says.

"She could give Belle and Scar a run for their money," Calhoun allows, "but her IQ ultimately falls far short of theirs. The only reason I say she can deal with an AI is because she majored in computer engineering and programming."

"Damn, she had the time for that?" Rapunzel asks. "Elsa and I had to drop out of university after we became Protectors."

"Anna started and finished her majors before she became a regular on the meta scene," Calhoun says. "And, before you ask," she adds, "Anna finished public school and university years before either program dictated she should. _Now_ ," she stresses, redirecting the conversation, "we need that intelligence to—"

Anna laughs, loud and outrageous. "Screw that!" she cackles. "Just make Ariel and Rapunzel elites and be done with it!"

Besides Anna and her laughter, everyone goes silent.

"Go on, elite number eight!" Anna says, taunting Calhoun with a title the old elites had never announced. "It's time to bring back the reign of elites! Besides," she adds, her chortling subduing but never becoming absent, "I trust them."

Ariel blinks, tears stinging in her eyes. "Anna," she whispers, and sobs. She presses her fore and middle finger to Anna's forehead.

Anna looks at the marine alien, not understanding what message she's trying to convey but sensing the significance of it.

Rapunzel leans against the wall, dumbfounded. "I—" she croaks. "Ariel I understand," she says, trying again, "but me? I only took your side today; I've been horrible to you otherwise."

"I've been horrible to you, too," Anna says, with a stupid grin she wishes her unresponsive hands would claw off. "But, to be honest, I couldn't care less how you feel about me. Our goals are the same, and we have a mutual understanding that anything that we do is for the good of Earth, not ourselves. That's enough for me." She looks Rapunzel in the eye – one of the sets of eyes swirling in her vision, at least. "In my option, you deserved to be an elite the moment you tried shoving a dagger in my chest."

Rapunzel's eyes swim with tears and she grits her teeth, turning her head away.

"Alright," Calhoun says, on a breath that sounds a century in the making. "Ariel Esquil'ar, your access has upgraded from F user one zero to E zero nine."

Ariel presses her fingers harder into Anna's forehead, her head ducked and her body wracked with tremors.

"And Rapunzel Olsen," Calhoun continues, "you have been upgraded from F zero four to E one zero." She chuckles, low and watery. "Welcome to the elites, Poseidon and Cross Roads. It's been a long time coming."

Rapunzel slides down the wall, her eyes round. "I'm an elite," she whispers, tucking her trembling hands in her lap. "I'm an _elite_ ," she repeats. "I'm— like Athena, and Hades, and—"

"We're elites!" Ariel rejoices, whooping a nasally cheer. She lifts Anna and interlocks their lips in a snotty, open-mouth kiss; holding on as if letting go would make the last couple minutes disappear.

"Mm, gross," Anna murmurs, when Ariel leans away.

"In light of the fact that elite status was granted in front of the entry," the computer AI grunts, "the verification step is unnecessary." The dead end wall pushes back and pulls aside, revealing a well lit sanitary room.

"Awesome," Anna huffs, getting to her feet with the help and support of Ariel. She struggles to walk, but her system is flushing the toxin far faster than it usually does. She takes the measure of good fortune without analyzing it.

The room, ten times bigger than what its active usage calls for, is coloured chrome with blue flares from the subdued royal blue LED lights lining the walls in vertical stripes. Over the active cryo chamber rests a thin layer of frost, and a low hum from the machine echoes through the otherwise empty room.

Anna detaches herself from Ariel and stumbles to the pod, using it to hold herself upright. "Hey, Calhoun," the villain whispers, tears stinging her eyes. "I'm a little late, but I'm here now."

"Mhm," Calhoun hums. "All of us elites in the same room once more, all lead by the same woman as back then." She chuckles. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"I think you mean, 'you never thought I'd ever come back,'" Anna corrects, with a self deprecating smile.

Ariel rests a hand on Anna's lower back, using the other to knock on the cryo pod's frosted glass. Anna sends her an odd look. Ariel grins, wiping at the snot and tears with the back of her hand.

"I'm letting Calhoun's body know we're here," Ariel says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Anna smiles. "Of course," she says, expecting this type of thing by now. She looks behind her, to Rapunzel. Anything she was going to say, however, dies in her throat. "Rapunzel?" she asks, recognizing the look in the healer's eyes.

Rapunzel meets Anna's gaze, her eyebrows twisting. "Are you sure Calhoun's in that pod?" she asks.

"She has to be," Anna says, trying to keep her panic at bay. She points to the wires connecting to the other end of the pod. "We hooked her brain to the system. We created a backup storage Calhoun could copy her consciousness to at her own leisure, but unless the primary source was changed to the backup her brain should still be active. Calhoun," she calls, spying a nearby camera, "what's your primary source of origin?"

"My brain," Calhoun replies, confused. "I keep the backup up-to-date but I've never switched to it."

Anna stares at the pod, a sick feeling of familiarity clawing at her gut. "Rapunzel," she says, as shaky as her poisoned internal organs, "check the pod for dead flesh."

"You don't understand," Rapunzel stresses, "there's _nothing_ in that pod, living or dead."

Anna's heart drops, and she grabs the edge of the cover and rips it clean off its hinges, sending it flying across the room in a shattered mess.

In the pod is a note, simply saying:

_You truly make things easy for me._

_AA Gatekeeper_

Ariel touches the note, her head tilting in confusion. "I thought AA Gatekeeper was a spaceship," she says, sending Anna an imploring look. "What could a ship have done?"

Anna freezes. "You've heard of the Gatekeeper?" she asks, her voice as abused as her emotions.

Ariel nods. "It was the ship that brought me here," she confirms, "and its AI was the one who taught me English."

"Tell me," Anna says, wetting her dry lips, "did this AI have a name?"

"Yeah, Chel," Ariel says, spying Anna's paling skin. "What's wrong?"

Chel, a military AI with the capability of harvesting meta abilities, is connected to Anna's father. Chel, an AI that does whatever it wants, works with the strongest ultimate of all time. Chel, an AI that's been privy to Anna's life for the better part of her meta career—

"Oh my god," Anna croaks, covering her mouth with a shaking hand.

Rapunzel, having picked up the note at some point, hisses. "Don't tell me," she says, sending Anna a look conveying all the fear the villain feels, "that your father—" She hesitates, and Anna nods, her muscles coiling.

"My father owns Chel," Anna chokes.


	22. Parallels Never Cross

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Waela (FFnet) and Those-Who Walk-Alone (FFnet) for betaing my work.
> 
>  _Continuity corrections:_ In chapter ten I changed Kida's home from the "lost planet of Atlantis" to "the 'God planet' Asgard". Also to clarify (now fixed) errors: Ariel's home _planet_ is Trideum and her home _city_ is Atlantis. In addition I've corrected Calhoun, Ariel, and Rapunzel's elite numbers in the previous chapter.
> 
> As some of you may be aware I've started a co-authored story [_Warrior's Knight_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11721813/chapters/26403603)with _Those-Who Walk-Alone_ (available on their FFnet and both of our AO3's). _Those-Who Walk-Alone_ will be the main writer, with both of us contributing to plot and me as the main editor, although I will be jumping into the writing in the later chapters. It is unrelated elsanna in a _Star Wars the Old Republic_ crossover.
> 
> * * *

Three and a Half Years Ago 

"Kidagakash!" Kashekim, Kida's father, cries in Asgardian. "Hurry up or we'll be late!"

"I know, I know!" Kida calls back, cutting off her lightning and smiling at the store keeper she was helping. "I hope that'll be enough charge to last you until a maintenance crew comes by," she says.

The graying woman smiles, soft and polite. "It's more than enough, your highness, thank you," she says, a twinkle in her eyes as she glances somewhere behind Kida. "Now you better run along before his majesty decides to drag you away by the ears."

Kida giggles. "I'd like to see him try," she jests, before snapping a mock salute and dashing through the crowd. If 'dashing' includes being stopped every second person with kind greetings or wishes of good fortune.

Kashekim raises an eyebrow, a smile pulling at his lips as he watches his daughter make her way through the den of people in the market. "I told you coming here today of all days would be a toil," he remarks.

Kida hums in agreement. "I knew it would be," she says, returning a wave of a passerby. "But I don't know when I'll be able to come back, or if I'll leave at all – or if I come _back_ at all." She frowns. "The ritual guidelines aren't all that specific."

The royal family initiation ritual, triggered by the request of the Old God, is a process where untested royals are given a task to solidify their status. There isn't an option to deny the ritual, nor is there an option to abandon a given task mid-way. Some of Kida's ancestors had tried and, allegedly, they were never the same again. Her father didn't like going into details, but the haunted look in his eyes whenever she brought it up was enough to tell her she didn't want to know.

"They aren't specific for a reason," Kashekim replies, scratching at his beard. "The Old God picks a task specific to each royal and their abilities. There's no rhyme or reason to his assignments and, as such, can't be constricted to series of rules and regulations."

Kida's frown deepens but doesn't reply, knowing better than to question it.

Back in the founding days of Asgard, several magically inclined individuals were given royal status under the sole condition that each additional member to their family had to complete an initiation ritual on the Old God's prompting. Since then three of the original bloodlines have gone extinct and four have lost their royal rights. The remaining royal bloodlines—each ruling a different section of the planet—treat the initiation ritual as a festival-deserving honour, but Kida wonders if it's to convince the populous it's a good thing, or themselves.

The royals who've completed the ritual are markedly different than those who haven't. Kida had tried questioning the older royals about it, only to find out that no royal can ever speak about the task they'd been given, not even to other royals. At least one of the disowned bloodlines had lost their royal rights over such a slight, and the offending parties were found dead of unknown causes or mutilated.

Asgardian royals, Kida wages, have less freedom than slaves.

"Have you been keeping up on your language studies?" Kashekim asks, breaking Kida from her thoughts.

"Uh, yeah," Kida says, shaking her head as if it would dislodge her doubts. "I'm not as fluent in some as I would like to be, but I guess that's to be expected from having to learn so many." She rubs her temples just thinking about it. She's had to learn hundreds of languages spanning countless solar systems, but even with the aid of information dropping—a technology that literally plants knowledge in one's brain—Kida can't honestly say she understands half of what she knows.

Kashekim laughs, loud and boisterous. "Most planets only have one to five active languages at any given time," he assures, an amused crinkle to his eyes. "Once you identify the main languages of the area you're sent to, I doubt you'll ever use the other ones."

Kida raises an eyebrow. "So, basically, I have to pray the languages I'll need to use are the ones I'm good at?" she asks.

"Pretty much," Kashekim says, with a grin. "If you're lucky you'll be sent to a unified planet and only need to use one or two. If you're unlucky, you'll be sent to an uncivilized planet with numerous cultures separated by the unwillingness to adapt—"

"I get the point," Kida interrupts, her lip twitching at the thought. If she's unfortunate enough to be sent to a planet such as that, she might very well punch herself in the face. "Dad—" she says, then stops herself, nerves boiling in her stomach again. She grits her teeth.

Kashekim, a meta with the power to initiate and control wars, looks at his daughter with a softened gaze. "It's not so bad, the tasks," he murmurs, but Kida's not sure if he even believes himself.

"Sure," Kida whispers, rubbing her bicep when a phantom chill enters her bones.

Kashekim's warning from years before springs to the forefront of Kida's mind; 'Don't cross the Old God,' he'd said, his features pale. 'When your time comes, do what he says. No matter what it is, _do it_. Please. _Please_.'

Kida hisses, removing her hand when her fingernails dig into her skin.

"Good luck today, your highness!" a cheerful voice cries, and Kida blinks, having to reorient herself.

Kida smiles at the pedestrian, sending him a subdued wave. "Thank you," she replies. "I'll be sure to please the Old God and bring glory to Asgard." How many times has she said that today? How many times has she forced herself to believe it?

The pedestrian grins, almost vibrating from excitement. "I know you will!" he says, displaying more confidence than Kida has ever felt.

Kashekim continues leading Kida away from the market, his hand on her lower back. Kida half wonders if her father thinks she'll run without it. Perhaps he's right.

The only solace Kida has that her task won't be as bad as she imagines it will be is the training she's received. Everything Kida has ever been taught has made use of intelligence rather than magic or brute force. While she was taught some advanced defense arts, she's never once had formal training for offensive combat; and her magic? The most formal training she's ever received was to help her understand her magic works and its trigger points to teach her how to control and utilize it without hurting herself or others.

From this Kida can only gather that her task will help people rather than harm them, which is something she can live with.

"Come on," Kashekim says, hopping on a hovering personal transport vehicle and plugging in a set of coordinates.

Kida blinks. "Uh, right," she says, jumping on the sleek machine next to her father and typing in a set of numbers she knows by heart. With a deep breath that does little to boost her confidence, Kida presses her crystal royal signet ring into the authorization slot. Her transport hums to life and lifts, raising to the minimum long-distance flight altitude.

"See you at the temple!" Kashekim shouts from below, having waited until his daughter was moving before authorizing his own transport.

"Yeah," Kida airs, leaning until her chest hits the padded saddle and slips her arms in the guarded sleeves that protect both the handholds—to hold on during pre-set flight paths—and the flight controls for emergency manual handling. She grabs handholds and shuffles her feet, making sure they're secure on the backmost divots. A security support mandatory for long distance travel slips around Kida's lower and mid back, and tightens.

The transport dings when it passes the distance-to-ground limitation and shoots forward – not-so-easing into full speed over length of several seconds.

Kida buries her face in the stiff cushion, her body protesting at the strain. Just once Kida wants to go on a long distance trip using the authorization ring of a non-meta, just so she can see what it's like to go somewhere without experiencing a transport's attempt at crushing her head into her pelvis.

The muscles in Kida's body only uncoil when the transport starts slowing down, and she slumps against it, limp, when it begins the gentle descent to the ground. When it stops completely and the machine stops securing her in place, Kida pulls out her arms and rolls over the side, falling back first into the ground.

From above, Kashekim laughs. "Is that anyway for a princess to behave?" he teases.

"Yes," Kida snaps, squinting her eyes against the suns – at just the right time of day that they blind her from both horizons. "And anyone who says otherwise can lick my asshole."

"If you're not careful they might," Kashekim laughs, swinging over a leg so he sits side-saddle on the transport.

Kida grumbles, wanting to snap back a witty retort but not having the presence of mind to think of one.

Kashekim smiles and glances towards the temple, examining it as if it were a memorial.

Noticing the shift, Kida rolls on her side and looks towards the massive ancient structure with the space available under her hovering transport.

The main temple itself is a reasonable size, on a rise reachable by a hundred odd stairs. The path leading to the stairs are marked on either side by colossal, spiraling pillars – each one depicting uncountable images of a prehistoric war Kida can't even begin to imagine the scale of. In the empty space between that and the mighty wall that surrounds the whole complex stand a multitude of enormous statues, their armoured likenesses all captured mid-attack from a battle long forgotten.

What draws Kida's eye the most is the statue posed mid-strike at any who dare step foot on the Old God's sacred ground. A cowl half covers their full armoured face, a waist-length cape billows behind them in an imaginary wind, the showing sculpted armour has been polished to gleam beneath the wind-blown fabric of their outfit, and a crude scythe carved of dark stone is gripped in the statue's poised arm. The most striking part of the setup, however, is the quote placed at the base of the statue's frontmost foot, reading:

 _I will do what needs to be done because it_ needs _to be done; not because of your orders and certainly not because of his threats._

_GK BR_

Kida stares for a long few seconds, dragging into minutes, wrestling the unnatural pull in her chest the towering statue invokes within her.

"It's like staring at a leader everyone deserves but will never have," Kashekim says, his voice a soft murmur. Kida turns her head to look at him, only to find his eyes drawn to the same place hers were. "I can only imagine what type of person they were in life to have their authority resound so prominently through a mere likeness of them."

"It could be residue from the builder themselves," Kida suggests, not wanting to entertain the idea.

Kashekim lips ease into a small, distracted smile. "Perhaps," he allows, but Kida can tell he doesn't believe it. After a moment Kashekim sucks in a harsh breath and hops off his transport. "We best be going," he says, offering his hand.

Kida takes the assistance and lets her father pull her from the ground. She looks around, noticing that the area around the temple is barren and that that emptiness stretches almost as far as the eyes can see before the first markings of civilization can be spotted.

"No one wants to build near holy ground," Kashekim says, answering the unspoken question. He frowns and scratches his bread. "That, or being too close to this place gives them the creeps. I can only imagine what this place must feel like to common folk."

Kida gestures to the distance spanning between the temple and the nearest town. "I'd say not all that good," she says, managing to retain the majority of her sarcasm.

Kashekim cracks a grin, but it looks strained. "I can't say I'm surprised," he says, nodding to the temple grounds. "Besides predating our history by who knows how long, it stands here without a brick out of place and rings with the echo of a joint power long past."

Kida hums, feeling as if she's staring straight into a different era as her eyes examine bits of the intricate details laid forth in the holy area before her. "We don't call this a God's temple for nothing, I suppose," she murmurs.

As odd as it sounds, standing in front of this temple is the closest Kida's ever come to believing the Old God might actually be, well, a God.

Kashekim nods. "No, we don't," he says, his eyebrows set in a hard line. "Come," he orders, soft, as he himself starts walking towards the entrance.

Kida follows her father without question, her eyes drawn once more to the guardian statue. The closer she gets, the more her skin crawls with a sensation she can't place; and as she walks between the giant's legs, hazy sounds of battle whisper in Kida's skull.

" _What do you think you can do to me, half breed?" a deep voice asks, his laughter as sharp as a cracking whip._

" _Whatever I can," is the growled response, barely heard over the clash and howls of the surroundings_.

Kida gasps, plowing face-first into the dirt as her father yanks her away from the statue.

Kashekim wheezes and takes a knee, sweat beading along his forehead. "That got worse," he croaks, wrapping an arm around his abdomen.

A cold sweat breaks over Kida's body in the absence of the invading sounds and she struggles to her knees as if the strength were sapped from her limbs. "A warning might have been nice," she chokes, spitting sand out of her mouth.

"From my mother's experience, knowing makes it hurt more," Kashekim replies, with a shaky smile. "I never knew for myself until now, but I'm glad I believed her." He wraps an arm around Kida's midriff and stands, supporting his daughter as she regains her footing. "How are you feeling?"

"About as good as a kick to the pubic bone," Kida responds, shaking the lingering buzzing from her head. "Thanks for pulling me out of that."

"Of course," Kashekim says, staring at the back of the guardian statue. "Greater royals than us have succumb to the memories of this place. In that regard," he adds, walking down the sand-dusted pathway, "try not to get too close to the statues or pillars, and for the love of the Old God don't touch anything."

"Is it that dangerous?" Kida asks, a nervous flutter starting in her gut.

"More than we know, I'd suspect," Kashekim says. He waves a hand around him. "You can feel it, can't you? The tingle of magic crackling in the air around us?"

Kida nods, feeling the baby hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. "Is it a warning?" she asks, having never learned much about the temple. While not a restricted topic, Kida got the impression that royals discussing the temple is taboo.

"No one knows," Kashekim answers, "but I suspect it's less of a safeguard and more of a natural state." His pace slows and he frowns. "It's . . . easier to understand after you meet the Old God."

Kida's heart leaps into her throat. "Right," she says, and grits her teeth to stop them from clattering. "But it's not actually the Old God, yeah? Just a descendant, or a priest, or—"

Kashekim turns, and the raw pity in his eyes stops Kida's tongue cold.

"It's easier to understand once you meet him," Kashekim repeats, forcing a strained smile. It doesn't take away from the tears welling in his eyes.

Kida swallows the bile rising from her stomach. "Dad, what did he make you do?" she asks, even though she knows he can't answer.

Kashekim wraps an arm around his daughter's shoulders and kisses her temple. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with," he murmurs.

"Sure," Kida whispers, not wanting to probe.

They walk the rest of the way in silence.

At the top of the stairs Kashekim gestures to the grand temple entrance; the double doors intricately carved with nonsensical images. "This is as far as I can take you," he says.

"What?" Kida squeaks, turning to her father with wide, pleading eyes.

Kashekim twitches a reassuring smile. "You'll be fine," he says, even though Kida knows they both recognize the lie. Kashekim turns his sights upwards, to the topmost edge of the structure. "Keeper of the gates," he calls, "my daughter Kidagakash Natarah is here to undergo her initiation."

Stone scraps on stone, and from over the roof an enormous black marble bird's head emerges. Red and gold swirl in the statue's eyes; the only visual indicator that this being is alive. "Kashekim Natarah," the living statue says, in a gravelly voice that rumbles and reverberates through the temple grounds. The statue raises and leaps onto the wide landing to the royals' right, showing that while the front of the beast is comprised of black marble the shape of a mighty bird, the back is carved of a shimmering, silver substance resembling the back end of a fierce, furry predator.

Kashekim bows. "Yes, that is I," he says.

The statue stares at Kashekim with its unnatural eyes. "Deep into the water he goes," the statue says, his pupils sharp with attention on something Kida can't see, "to stow a ship away below. Draw attention of one near, and when they come the spores appear. From here his path will soon come clear; war is in his bones, the air, and he gives the kingdom what they fear – grief, hate, loss, and despair." The statue sits, satisfied. "You have served the Old God."

Kashekim raises, the colour drained from his cheeks. "Thank you," he says, his voice hoarse.

Kida glances from her father to the statue. Is that— was that— did she just hear a poem summarizing her father's task?

The statue turns to Kida, its eyes boring into her soul. "Nothing, of yet, has been asked," it says, "but she'd been called to receive a task. Inside her heart is harbored doubt; something her mind could do without. She wished not for her family's lore, so she's come to abhor, her life of chains – to a God who knows no name."

Kida swallows, and flashes her father a nervous smile when he turns to her.

The statue hums, sounding like rocks falling down a cliff face. "Very well," it says, leaning forward to open the doors with its beak. "You may enter, Kidagakash Natarah of Asgard."

Kida nods, unable to find her voice, and walks into the temple. Halfway through she turns around, meeting her father's worried gaze. "I love you, Dad," she says, tears burning in her eyes.

"I love you, too," Kashekim replies, wet streaks gracing his cheeks and beard. "I love you!" he cries again, when the doors start closing.

A lump raises in Kida throat and all she can do is back out of the way of the doors as they swing by her. "Please let me see him again," she prays, when the double doors shut.

With a hiss Kida turns and forces herself to walk, wiping tears from her face.

When her vision clears, Kida can't help but note that the inside of the temple is stark in comparison to the outside. There's no carvings, no statues, no tapestries – just the shadows cast by dust and dirt obscuring the light sources; ceiling to floor vertical strips every two meters no bigger than a fingernail in width, with one side lighting the hallway a deep crimson red and the other a bright, luminescent gold.

A haunted chill seeps into Kida's skin and she grits her teeth, staving off her instinct to run.

At the end of the hallway is another larger-than-life set of doors that open without prompting. Beyond the doors is a gigantic open room decorated not only with the same odd lighting choice—red to the left, gold to the right, and meeting in the center on the far wall—it has specific weapon racks lining the walls between the lights, but only some of them bear weapons. Just looking at them makes Kida uneasy, more so the ones on the left – although Kida can't be sure if the latter is because of the weapons themselves or the lighting choice.

At the far end is a raised dais, three steps high. Arching the back edge and sides of the dais is what looks to be a miniature curved mountain, with the tip touching the ceiling and the bottom center branching out into an unrefined throne.

Without a word Kida walks towards the dais, dread pooling in her stomach with every echoed footfall. It takes her a while to cross the room, keeping to the uncoloured strip in the center of the room like doing anything else would be her doom.

By the time Kida stops in front of the dais her breathing is shallow and uneven, and her fingers tremble with unspent adrenaline. "I followed your summons," she calls, when nothing happens. "I'm here to receive a task."

"So you are," a dark voice rumbles from behind, seconds before the doors slam shut.

Kida whirls, her heart in her throat, and what she sees has her dropping into a kneeling knight's salute, a closed fist pressed against her chest.

The Old God is similar in appearance to the guardian statue at the entrance of the temple grounds, except his cowl is twice the size, covering that much more of his armoured face, and his cape reaches his ankles. His armour gleams silver and black and, unlike the statue, is mostly overtop of his clothes rather than hidden beneath them, and his cape is coloured much like the room; a gray strip down the middle with red blanketing one side and gold coating the other.

Besides that, the Old God eludes a suffocating, overpowering aura that makes the air heavy and crushing. If Kida didn't know better, she'd say the Old God was making an attempt on her life.

"First is the disclaimer, of sorts," the Old God says. "You may not reveal your mission before, during, or after its proceedings. Doing so will bring harm on yourself and others; and trust me, if you tell with words, actions, projected thoughts, or otherwise, I will know. Disobedience or abandonment will not be tolerated. Once received, you must complete your task. Is this clear?"

Kida nods, finding her body not cooperative enough to do much else.

"Good. Then I won't dance around the point," the Old God says, his voice deep and chilling. "I need you to travel to Sol of the Milky Way, to pass judgement on a child of mine."

Kida hesitates, unable to curb her confusion. "Pass judgement, my lord?" she asks, the formal title slipping from her lips as if it were meant to be there.

"Yes," the Old God replies, but doesn't elaborate.

Kida frowns and risks a glance at her slaver. "With all due respect, my lord," she says, "the odds of me successfully passing judgement on a child of yours is slim, at best." If this child is even half as powerful as the man before her, Kida would be crushed in an instant.

"There is more than one way to judge someone," the Old God replies. "You can judge them, you can make others judge them, or you can make them judge themselves. The possibilities are broader than you think."

Kida's throat clamps up and she ducks her head once more. "Okay," she accepts, even if she doesn't understand.

The Old God chuckles, low and dangerous. "Trust me," he says, even though Kida has never trusted anyone less in her life, "all you have to do is go to Earth and join a little band of superheroes called the 'Protectors'. After that your encounter with my child will be inevitable."

Why does Kida get the feeling that that isn't a good thing?

"May I know the identity of your child, my lord?" Kida asks, trying to find a detail—any detail—that makes her mission a little less obstruct. Was this how it was like with her father?

"The title I bestowed upon them isn't one they'll own for some years to come," the Old God responds, dodging the question. "Or, at least, it'll be long after the first stage of your job is complete."

Kida hesitates. "How will I know when my task is complete, my lord?" she asks instead.

The Old God throws back his head and laughs, loud and boisterous and . . . the opposite of comforting. "Oh, _believe me_ ," he chuckles, "you'll know."

Kida presses the knuckles of her free hand into her leg. "Can I please have some detail, my lord?" she asks, on the edge of begging. "So I go to Earth, join these Protectors, and then what? Help them? Do whatever they want me to do until I meet someone I don't even know how to identify? How am I to judge someone, directly or abstractly, if I don't even know who to aim my attention at?"

For a stretch of time the Old God doesn't answer; long enough to make Kida regret having raised the issue at all. Her shoulders hitch around her ears the longer the deafening silence continues, waiting for a retaliation she's not sure will ever come.

"When you first arrive," the Old God says, making Kida jump, "you may do whatever you please within the Protectors in the name of your own personal values. This will naturally setup and complete the first stage of your task. The second stage will begin when my child accepts who they are and introduces themselves to the Protectors and, as such, the world. As for their name, it will be any language's variation of Two-Seventeen."

Kida frowns. "Two-Seventeen, my lord?" she questions, sceptical. Who would name their child after a number?

"Yes," the Old God replies. "Although the version my child will keep is through the use of the Greek alphabet." He tilts his head and, if Kida didn't know better, she'd say he was staring into her soul like the living statue outside.

Then again, with how powerful the Old God appears to be, that may be exactly what he's doing.

The Old God chuckles, sounding like a haunting echo in a cavern. "Their name," he says, "will be Beta Rho."

* * *

Present Day 

If Kida has to hear Executioner's Axe complain about the lack of room _one more time_ , Kida swears she's going to electrocute her ass and blame it on a wiring malfunction.

No, screw blaming it on the ship; Kida will slap Axe square in the fucking face with a ball of lightning in her palm.

Esmeralda pinches the bridge of her nose, no doubt dreaming about that hard drink she's been craving ever since Axe _insisted_ on coming back with them. "If you hadn't of dragged your dragon aboard," Esmeralda says, words she's said countless of times before, "the issue of space wouldn't be a problem."

Not to mention all the fish Axe brought along to feed the damn reptile throughout the trip. Kida wouldn't mind all that much—she grew up near a fishing community—if it didn't smell so putrid. It's like everyone on Berk decided to rub their dirty stinky feet all over some long dead fish and then throw it in a wicker basket. The stench has already made Shang, Esmeralda, and Kida throw up at least once, if not a dozen times by now.

Axe glares at Esmeralda's back. "I will _not_ leave Stormfly behind," Axe snaps.

"Then don't complain when she takes up your precious foot room," Shang intercedes, shouldering past Axe to join Kida and Esmeralda in the cockpit. "How close are we to docking?" he asks, his armoured hands clutching the backs of his fellow heroes' chairs in repressed frustration.

"Not soon enough," Esmeralda gripes, but points to the time on the automatic pilot regardless. "That's how long we have until the docking sequence takes over."

Beneath his gladiator helmet, Shang winces. "Ten minutes?" he hisses, as if it were a catastrophic discovery.

Kida shrugs. "I could always shut her up," she suggests.

"I heard that!" Axe shouts from afar, having retreated at some point.

"You were supposed to!" Kida barks, her accent thickening with her rising ire.

Shang rests a hand on Kida's shoulder, mindful of his grip strength. "Keep it cool for a little while longer," he murmurs, his mouth setting into a grim line. "We can get away from her soon."

"You told me the same thing about Archer and I still have to deal with her," Kida snarls, narrowing her eyes at their mission leader.

"Lord help me now," Esmeralda sighs, "if Archer's stalking about when we get back I'll have half the mind to offer her as a sacrifice."

Shang gives the telepath a look. "To Axe or Stormfly?" he asks.

"Does it matter?" Esmeralda retorts.

Shang rubs the back of his neck. "Good point," he consents. He looks at Kida and jabs a thumb over his shoulder. "Can you go make sure all our gear is secured?" he asks.

Kida narrows her eyes, knowing what Shang really wants her to do. "I'm not going near her," she refuses.

"Oh come _on_ ," Shang begs, his eyes wide and pleading. "You know they'll get rowdy when the ship starts slowing down. Axe will start demanding answers and get all huffy and then prepare to charge out of the hull of the ship – and with that axe of hers you know she can."

Kida flings her arms at Esmeralda. "So let her do it," she exclaims. "She can just bitch slap their brains to cooperate!"

Esmeralda's expression sours and she raises a halting hand. "Sorry, I don't want to succumb to a drinking problem this early in my career," she says.

"Right," Kida grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest. She doesn't mention the empty bottles of liquor in Esmeralda's suitcase, or all the mead the telepath consumed on Berk.

Esmeralda has had a problem with alcohol ever since Arson royally fucked up her head at the start of the second Incident. Kida's never questioned the telepath on it—liking to avoid the topic of Arson when she can—but from what Kida's gathered from the other leaguers, Arson had been close to turning Esmeralda's brain into sausage grinds. Ever since then Esmeralda has issues delving too deep into another person's brain and avoids it whenever she can.

Shang shifts from foot to foot. "So," he says, elongating the word, "will you do it?"

While Kida has half the mind to refuse on principle alone, something about Berk has been rubbing her the wrong way ever since she arrived and she never was afforded the time to do a proper investigation. So, with a long suffering sigh, Kida stands and glares at Shang. "For doing this I fully expect you to take my place if Blizzard _ever_ has the nerve to partner me with Archer again," she says, and she means it. She was one wrong word away from killing Merida after their mission in Moscow.

Shang cringes, but doesn't voice his discontent. "Deal," he agrees, though his voice sounds as though someone punched him in the throat.

Kida smirks and shuffles by him, letting him wallow in the horror of his decision alone. She listens as she walks, waiting for the moment Shang realizes he scarified himself to an entire mission with Merida for ten minutes of peace from Axe.

To his credit, Shang's reaction is low enough that Kida's only marker of his realization is Esmeralda's uproarious laughter. Kida smiles.

Stopping at the entrance of the cargo bay, Kida takes a deep breath and leans against the door frame, watching.

Axe, a muscled barbarian by Earth standards, wears furs, leathers, scales, and bones. Her outfit passes over her bulging biceps—large enough to compare to Megara's—in some crude oversight in armour efficiency, but Kida would be lying if it didn't suit the woman.

Stormfly, Axe's dragon, takes up most of the available space in the room. Even lying down her massive horned head almost hits the ceiling every time she raises it. Her green tinted blue scales glimmer in the overhead lights, which draws close attention to her white underbelly and bright yellow eyes. Stained teeth protrude from the dragon's mouth at sharp, jagged angles, and Kida half expects to see blood on them, but Axe is very thorough when it comes to her companion's upkeep.

Axe raises her head, her eyes zoning in on Kida like a hawk to a mouse. Neither of them say anything, and Stormfly glances between them, a quizzical tilt to her head.

Kida crosses her arms over her chest, wondering how to go about testing her theory.

Axe narrows her eyes, her jaw muscles jumping the longer they stare at each other.

Kida sighs. The best way is jumping off the deep end, she supposes. "Are you comfortable?" she asks. She hesitates and glances at Stormfly. "Besides the lack of leg room," she adds.

Axe frowns. "Why do you care?" she fires back, suspicious.

"We'll be switching into atmospheric restrictions soon," Kida replies, even though she knows Axe won't know what she's talking about. Off the look she receives, Kida explains, "Essentially we'll be slowing down. From there we'll head to base and land." She shrugs. "I want to make sure you're comfortable so you won't start freaking out and destroy the ship."

Rolling her eyes, Axe grabs a slimy fish from the basket she brought with her and tosses it to Stormfly. "I don't have any intention of compromising this metal deathtrap's capability to fly," she says, as if she hadn't attempted to break through the hull days earlier in the middle of space.

Kida raises an eyebrow, but doesn't mention the transgression. "Good," she says instead, taking a seat on the metal bench beside the door that leads to the cockpit. "In that case we'll be free of this 'deathtrap' in ten minutes or so."

Axe eyes her, the corners of her mouth twitching. "What do you want?" she asks, not that Kida blames her. The leaguers haven't exactly been subtle in their distaste of the queen, so acting considerate is a jarring change of pace.

Kida decides to be honest. "I'm testing a hypothesis," she replies. "Tell me," she says, "what language have we been speaking during the length of this conversation?"

Axe looks at Kida as if she had pulled an egg out of her ass. "Uh, _my_ language," she says, as if it were obvious.

"And, enlighten me," Kida says, "what _is_ the name of your language?"

Axe throws her arms in the air. "I don't know, they're just words!" she exclaims, her cheeks flaring in frustration. "Everyone we've ever met speaks the same language so we never needed to name it. It's just speech."

Only it's not, 'just speech'. Kida was speaking a different language with every sentence, and Axe didn't even realize it. Kida doubts Axe even recognizes the fact that she replied in whatever language Kida used last.

"I see," Kida says, her lips pursing.

Planet-wide language proficiency like this doesn't just happen, especially not in a backwater civilization where the most technological advancement they've made on their own is blunt metal interchangeable prosthetics. And by that Kida means weapons or tools strapped into the place of a missing body part, like having a knife for a hand or a rake for a leg.

This isn't done by information dropping, and it certainly isn't taught in school, considering the only ones Kida saw were for dragon rider or warrior training. No, this rings more like a subconscious, wide-spread meta ability, only it doesn't make sense. There are such things as planet or solar system isolated abilities—where certain meta abilities only occur in certain areas or it's the _only_ ability that can be had in that area—but it never affects the entirety of a population.

Kida has a sickening feeling that she knows who's behind this—or who could have ordered this to happen—but without knowing Berk's history or the history of powers in the Asgardian royal lines Kida can't say for certain.

"Are you done asking useless questions?" Axe asks, her clenched fists twitching against her knees.

"Yeah," Kida replies in English, so Axe won't start barking at her teammates in Nevermorian. She stands and gestures to a side door. "I'll be in my room if you need me," she says, and leaves.

Though, Kida supposes as she steps into one of the three available sleeping quarters, 'room' may be a lavish stretch of the imagination. It's . . . a functional area with a small place for personal items and hero uniforms, but a solid half is taken up by a twin-sized, bench-like bed layered with a cushioning foam and an option of a thick or thin blanket. This isn't meant to be a personalized room or one to be used for more than sleeping or changing, a point enforced by the pathetic amount of space left open between the bed, dresser, and door.

Kida never expected the Protector ships to be excessive in personal comfort, but it was jarring to learn that all of them exercise different styles of the same 'practicality over comfort' motto. She had expected at least one to be angled more towards comfort for long distance travel—like the Asgardian ship Kida flew to Earth—but alas, none were to be had.

It's one of the reasons Kida had tried to get the league to take her ship—sitting in the league's docking bay—but in the end, her ship couldn't compete with the elite lock-out speeds of the league vehicles.

Sitting on the edge of the bed with a huff, Kida runs her fingers through her hair and grips them at the roots. Her ribcage clenches against her heart and she hates it; resents how the anxious muscle contraction reminds her of memories best left buried.

She sucks in a harsh breath through her nose, forcing herself to focus on the area around her. The plain, cramped quarters she's been sardined in for the better part of two weeks. She had the option on Berk to stay in a shack, but after seeing what was available . . . the league ship's personal quarters didn't look so bad after that.

Kida, of course, was the only one of the trio who stayed on the ship. Emeralda was out drinking most nights having the time of her life, and Shang didn't appear to have a problem with the medieval setup, but Kida gets the impression he's still trying to live up to the status he gained from training under the old elites; even if it means doing things he doesn't like.

She can almost hear the whining keen at the back of his throat as he cried, 'are you proud of me now' to the heavens, tears soaking his cheeks as he collapsed to his knees, sobbing. He had begged the ground to tell him if he was good enough, if he had done enough, if he was who he was supposed to be.

Kida tilts her head to the ceiling. How long ago was that, now? Two years?

It's times like that, when she could feel her heart cracking and her faith in the world plummeted through the floor, that Kida wondered if her judgement of Beta Rho was hinged on moments like this. Was Kida to judge based on the fact that Beta Rho hasn't stepped in already, or that they'll interfere at all?

Kida isn't sure what to think. A child of the Old God would be powerful enough to turn the tides in any direction, but the question remains of _which_ direction they'll take. Beta Rho could be good or evil, a pacifist or an aggressor, a builder or a destroyer; but Kida knew that from the beginning. For now it's just a waiting game; one Kida's not quite sure her nerves can handle.

Hearing more than feeling the ship passing through the ozone and decreasing speed, Kida glances at her still open door, wondering if she should babysit the aggressive queen.

Kida stands in answer of her own question and walks towards the cargo bay. Asgardian royalty may be brought up with discipline, but the Berkish equivalent isn't. There are no bloodlines or family ties, just whoever commands the most respect or punches the hardest.

As Kida turns the corner, she's greeted with the sight of Axe wrestling with Stormfly's head and paws, the meta agitated by some perceived slight.

Kida sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. Case and point.

 _At least they're not destroying the ship_ , Kida thinks, with a bitter smile. What has her life come to when _that_ is what she's fucking happy about?

For a while Kida only watches, content lingering outside the entryway.

"Don't," Kida warns when Axe reaches for her weapon, lightning spitting and crackling around the princess's shoulders.

Axe eyes Kida from over her shoulder, her gaze flicking from Kida's face to the electric current arching around her. Axe clenches her jaw, her hand tightening on the shaft of her axe.

"You would attack me in close quarters?" Axe asks, a dark rumble at the back of her throat.

Kida shrugs. "More like immobilize if things get out of control," she corrects. She raises a hand, lightning sparking around her fingers. "One direct hit from this would either kill you or temporarily short circuit your brain. So I suggest you keep free of more violent activities until we land."

Axe raises an eyebrow. "Does that mean I can do whatever I want once we're on off this ship?" she asks.

"No," Kida says, "it means your behaviour will be assessed by Blizzard and _she'll_ be the one who deals with you."

A coiled smirk twists Axe's lips. "'Blizzard', eh?" she asks.

Kida glares, seeing where this is headed. "Blizzard has gone toe-to-toe with Arson and won," she snaps, even if it isn't technically true. "If she can do that then she's more than capable of dealing with you and a fire breathing dragon."

Axe scowls, her eyes darkening at the insult. "I would punch you in the face for that," she snarls, "but I know firsthand that Arson's flames are powerful enough to break through fireproof walls." She straightens and wipes dragon slobber off her breastplate, or maybe fish guts. "So for now, I'll allow Blizzard the credit you've bestowed upon her."

Kida nods, thoughtful.

To the surprise of no one, the league away team learnt the Beast Master was released by Arson during an escape attempt. She avoided recapture by activating one of Calhoun's protocols, one not even Shang had heard of before. He'd used an old communications machine—one that was allegedly given to Berk by Archangel decades before—to relay the information to Earth, but Calhoun wouldn't transfer him to anyone, saying, 'I'll tell you when you get back.' It was more worrying than Kida would like to admit.

"Good," Kida says, glancing towards the cockpit when pressure sits on her eardrums. They must be underwater already. "Grab your stuff," she says, turning heel. "We're almost there."

While Kida grabs her own stuff—a small suitcase's worth—she keeps an ear open in case Axe decides to be stupid in her absence. By the time she makes her way back to the cargo bay, Shang and Esmeralda are exiting the cockpit.

"We'll meet you out there," Shang says, nodding to the open bay hatch as Stormfly finishes backing out of it.

"'Kay," Kida says, walking the ramp and sucking her first breath of fresh air in days.

"What the hell," Axe murmurs, and Kida has half the mind to laugh when she looks over.

Axe stares in awe, her eyes as wide as saucers, as she takes in the massive room housing a small fleet of advanced ships. Her jaw unhinges the longer she looks, and Kida half wonders if she'll stay like that long enough for drool to slip out.

"Zeus, it's good to see you," Elsa says, approaching the wet landing area in her icy uniform, a smile in her eyes. "How'd the mission go?"

"Easy compared to the shit we deal with here," Kida replies with a smile, glancing at the area behind Blizzard. Her head tilts in confusion. "Is Hercules on a mission?" she asks, her heart twinging despite herself. She'd expected the big oaf to be here to welcome her home.

Elsa winces. "Hercules is, well"—she rubs the back of her neck—"she had her ass handed to her and is recovering in the infirmary."

Kida's muscles jump, her eyes widening in alarm. "Which villain?" she asks, even if she dreads the answer.

Elsa laughs, soft and uncomfortable. "It wasn't a villain, actually," she says. Her gaze flicks to Axe and her eyes tighten. "We can talk about the details later, though."

Kida wants to argue, but she understands where Elsa is coming from. Axe is a stranger, an insane one at that, and talking about weaknesses of the league in front of her wouldn't do them any favours.

Elsa takes a step back, her eyes watering. "Why do you smell like rotting fish?" she croaks, another layer of ice hardening over her helmet. She looks at the ship and backs off several more meters. "Oh my god what have you been _doing?_ " she asks, her hand touching her ice armoured abdomen as if trying to convince her stomach to calm down.

"I don't want to talk about it," Esmeralda calls as she walks out the lowered bay door.

"That's fine," Elsa says, quick to take another step back. "I don't really want to talk to any of you right now either."

Shang laughs. "It's just fish, Blizzard," he says, as if hadn't hovered over the toilet for an hour like the rest of them.

Elsa glares at him. "Normal fish don't make your nostrils bleed," she retorts. She spins and freezes an arrow midair, sending it crashing to the floor. "Archer!" Elsa roars. "What did I tell you about shooting inside the base?"

"That I could if it was target practice!" Merida shouts back, from the far end of the room.

Elsa bristles. "I am _not_ a target," she snaps, "and if you fire that thing at me one more time I'll break every bow you own."

"That's not fair!" Merida whines. "I can't find Anna and you're the only one who won't murder me in my slee— augh!" She tumbles from her hiding spot atop a ship with her wrists and ankles frozen together. "Blizzard!" she cries, rolling of the edge. " _Blizzard!_ " she yowls again, as she plummets towards the floor.

At the last second Elsa summons a pile of snow for Merida to land in, but it's still shallow enough for Merida to sink through it and hit the metal floor with a _thump_.

Elsa turns back to Kida and the others, a harsh furrow to her brows. "You three get washed up and meet me in the small conference room in an hour," she says, a chill to her voice. Her eyes darken. "We need to bring you up to speed."

Shang frowns. "On what, exactly?" he asks.

Elsa shrugs, stiff. "A lot," she says, avoiding the question.

Shang glares at her. "Don't be like Calhoun," he spits.

From the speakers, Calhoun sighs. Axe jumps, her head whipping to identify the source.

Elsa winces. "Right, sorry," she apologizes. She clears her throat. "We need to talk about the kidnapping cases, a current mission, and"—she hesitates, just long enough to notice—"and we need to discuss new details we've discovered about the second Incident."

Kida's heart grows cold. Esmeralda flinches and steps back. Shang's eyes harden, his free hand curling into a fist.

"I see," Shang says, curt.

"Yeah," Elsa replies, not sounding eager to get into it. She motions over her shoulder. "You guys go get cleaned up; I'll handle Executioner's Axe."

"What about Archer?" Esmeralda jests, trying to look unfazed and failing. Her complexion is clammy and her fingers shake. Somehow Kida knows Esmeralda is going to be drunk or tipsy come meeting time.

"What about her?" Elsa asks, going out of her way to pretend to search her surroundings. "I don't see her, do you?"

"Oh, fuck you!" Merida barks, struggling to worm her way out of the snow.

"I bought a swearing patriot," Elsa says, dismissing the shout.

Shang laughs while Kida and Esmeralda smile, appreciating the attempt at levity.

Elsa's eyes soften with affection. "Now get out'a here," she says. "Your collective stink is hurting my brain cells."

Esmeralda raises an eyebrow. "I thought we were affecting your nose?" she asks, her humour returning, if slightly.

"You've already advanced beyond that, my nose is dead," Elsa says, stepping aside. "Now get the hell out of here before I freeze your asses."

Kida laughs and leaves first, letting Shang and Esmeralda continue harassing their poor leader without her.

When she gets to her room, Kida dumps all the clothes in her suitcase in the laundry chute and takes a long, hot shower. She gets out only after she's rubbed her skin raw, and dresses in a clean uniform.

Her Zeus outfit, with black fabric, dark leather, and silver armour—all accented with intricate bluish white designs—is style mixed between practical and fantastical. The armour itself is practical – fitting her form and made to move with her rather than against her. On her lower back are two crossed medium length swords shaped like basic lightning bolts; which, considering she never really uses them, are an aesthetic additive. She also dons a waist-length midnight blue cape—despite her better judgement of practicality—that covers most of her left upper arm and three quarters of her back. The cape wraps around her neck and drapes over her shoulders, and is secured in place on the right side of her breastplate by an over-the-top lightning bolt sigil.

With one last sniff of herself to make sure she won't skunk anyone out of the base, Kida exits her room and heads towards the medical bay.

"Calhoun," Kida says, wanting to abate her nerves, "who's the one who took Hercules out?" Truth be told, with Megara's only ability being insane super strength, any meta with strong offensive powers would be able to best her one-on-one.

"Her own stupidity," Calhoun drones, sounding less than impressed with the strength meta.

Kida raises an eyebrow. "How do you mean?" she asks.

"I mean," Calhoun drawls, with more sarcasm than Kida has ever heard the AI use, "that Hercules thought waving her biceps around could get her anything she wanted. In other words, she triggered someone she shouldn't have because she thought she could get away with it, and was valiantly rewarded by getting her face smashed in with the butt of a spear."

Kida's step falters. Despite the aloof bouncy to Calhoun's words, Kida can tell that the AI is _pissed_. Whether or not Calhoun is livid because of what Megara did or something else, however, Kida can't determine.

Continuing on her way, Kida clears her throat and says, "She always was a bit brash." She wants to ask who did it, or question why Calhoun is so emotional, but she holds her tongue. She has the feeling the AI wouldn't appreciate her questions or concern right now.

"No kidding," Calhoun mumbles, distracted.

Kida doesn't try to regain the AI's attention, instead walking the rest of the way to her destination in silence. It wouldn't be so eerie, she suspects, if the place didn't feel outright abandoned. Besides the leaguers in the docking bay, Kida hasn't come across or even heard anyone else. Kida tries to attribute it to whatever the current mission is, but something about it rubs her the wrong way.

Or perhaps, Kida allows, she's waiting for the moment Ariel springs on her.

All that concern dies away, however, when Kida enters the medical bay and sees her girlfriend curled in the fetal position, her lips and eyebrows scrunched in the most adorable display of misery Kida has ever seen.

Kida giggles despite herself and Megara's eyes snap to her, her mouth half open to loose a biting reproach before her eyes widen. Kida smiles and says, "Hey, Herc."

"Zeus!" Megara exclaims—taking the hint—though her voice is more subdued than usual. She pushes herself upright with noticeable difficulty, and Kida closes the distance between them before her girlfriend tries standing.

Megara sighs in relief as she wraps her arms around Kida's waist and leans up to kiss the baby blue forking lightning tattoo on Kida's cheek. "God I missed you," Megara whispers, some of the tension ebbing from her shoulders as she slumps and rests her forehead against Kida's breastplate.

Kida smiles and laces her armoured fingers at the base of Megara's neck. "I missed you, too," Kida replies. Then, with a teasing smile, she adds, "So-o-o, I hear you pissed someone fuck the right off."

Megara groans, drawn out and exaggerated. "I pissed a couple people right the f— wait a minute," she pulls back and gives Kida a look, her throat fluttering with restrained amusement. "What did you just say?"

Kida pauses, thinking, then narrows her eyes at nothing in particular. "I said it wrong again, didn't I?" she asks.

Megara chortles low in her throat, her eyes glowing with delight. "At this point you might as well keep saying it your way," she teases. "If you start correcting yourself now we might think _we're_ doing it wrong."

Kida rolls her eyes. "I see having your brain rattled has done nothing to improve your sense of humour," she deadpans, and Megara laughs.

"You love my sense of humour," Megara retorts, with a silly grin.

Kida huffs, tilting her chin in defiance. "I tolerate it," she defends, before letting the pretence fall with a smile. "So you going to tell me who you pissed off?"

Megara's smile falters. "Uh," she hesitates, her fingers fiddling with the sheathed weapons on Kida's back. "Almost everyone?" she says, with a sheepish smile.

Kida frowns. "What do you mean, 'almost everyone'?" she asks.

Megara's gaze flickers anywhere aside Kida's face. "Well," she says, drawing out the word, "I aggravated Anna by talking to her, which, in turn, pissed off Golden Flower"—her face twists—"or Roads, I guess? And Decryption." She winces. "Poseidon hasn't come to visit me even though I can't move all that well, so I don't think she's very happy with me at the moment, either."

Kida's eyes widen, her jaw going slack. "I was gone for _two weeks_ ," she stresses, "and you managed not only to get on the bad side of our healer, intelligence operative, and our civilian elite, but our _puppy_ , too?" She backs out of Megara's arms and buries her face in her armoured hands. "Poseidon cares about everyone whether they're deserving of it or not. _How in the hell_ did you manage to slight her?"

Megara winces, her shoulders bunching around her ears. "She's really come to care about Anna in the time you've been away," she says, her voice small. "So when I crossed Anna, I guess Poseidon didn't want to be around me all that much?" She raises her gaze, hopeful.

Kida clenches her teeth, the muscles in her jaw bulging with the harsh motion. "How, exactly, did you cross Anna?" she asks, trying and failing to subdue her thickening accent. It's an emotional tell she hasn't been able to shake.

Megara presses the heels of her palms into her thighs and scratches, her head canting away. "I may have . . . pressured her," she says, clearing her throat. "As you know, she admitted to knowing the identity of the old elites, and if we were to figure out Arson's civilian identity, we would be able to find chinks in her armour." She fists the fabric of her pants. "So I tried to convince her to tell me Arson's real name."

Before Kida can even think to point out the obvious omission of details, Calhoun's laugh booms through the room's speakers, chilling and cold.

"Oh yes, 'pressured her'," Calhoun mocks. "Very smooth."

Kida's chest flares with anger with a sudden realization and she glares at her girlfriend. "You pissed off our AI, too?" she exclaims, only just keeping her accent from jumbling the words into an intangible mess.

Megara's eyes widen and she raises her hands in surrender. "I didn't— I-I mean if I did I wasn't aware of it until now," she stutters.

Kida stomps her foot, needing _something_ to dislodge her mounting fury. "Tell me what you did to Anna, _right now_ ," she demands, "or so help you, I'll invoke a punishment worthy of the Old God." Megara just looks at her, a strange look on her face. "Well?" Kida bellows.

Megara shrinks. "Not all of that sentence was in English," she croaks. "Can— can you repeat it for me, please?"

Guilt seeps into Kida's heart and she sighs, struggling with herself to get a grip on her emotions. When she gets a semblance of that, she repeats her demand.

Megara nods, slowly, as if buying time to steel herself. "I was a little rough with her," she says, making Calhoun scoff. Ignoring the AI, Megara continues with, "A little too rough, it would seem, because I sent her into a full-fledged panic attack powerful enough to activate dormant meta abilities; which she used to warrant my stay in here."

Kida wants to yell, and scream, and punch things—or punch Megara—but one look at her girlfriend makes it apparent an outward display of rage isn't necessary. Megara has made herself as small as her hulking form can allow, and the look on her face is the one of a pet who damn well knows they're in trouble.

So, in a test of diplomacy that rivals her time with Merida, Kida takes a deep breath and tilts her head upwards. "Calhoun," she says, "I would like to apologize on behalf of Hercules."

"It—" Calhoun cuts herself off with a hiss, as if she were trying to get a grip as much as Kida is. "It's fine," the AI sighs. "I admit Hercules' actions were damnable but they in no way affect my opinion of you, and, if I'm being honest, she's not the reason I'm more or less unhinged right now." Kida opens her mouth but before she can say anything, Calhoun says, "No, I don't want to talk about it."

Kida closes her mouth with a slow nod, accepting the words at face value. "Can you please tell me where Anna and the others are?" she asks instead.

"Giving them an apology on Hercules' behalf will do nothing to sway their opinion of her," Calhoun warns. "Anyone can say someone else is sorry, but it won't mean anything unless it's true"—Megara winces, seeing where this is going—"and Hercules has already made it clear that she feels no shame in her actions."

 _Of course_ , Kida thinks, not sure why she expected any different. While a force to be reckoned with, Megara has only ever shown her more caring and compassionate side when Kida is around or nearby. When Kida goes on the rare missions that disallows communication through the duration and Megara isn't partnered with her, the woman reverts to the cold, bullheaded lout she was when Kida and her had first met.

Kida never asked why Megara is like this, and she doesn't care to. Kida knows what it's like to not want to talk about pieces of her past – even knows how it feels not being allowed to talk about her past under threat of some unholy hell, so if Megara has moments like that, too, then that's fine. It makes navigating situations like this troublesome, but nothing Kida can't handle.

"Can I talk to them anyway?" Kida insists. "Even if it's not to apologize, I'd like to see how they're doing." She frowns. "How's Anna holding up, anyway?"

Calhoun hums. "At the moment Anna is more concerned with her new powers than her altercation with Hercules," she says. "In saying that, Anna has neither forgotten the incident nor forgiven Hercules for her part in it."

"She's not innocent in this ordeal either," Megara gripes, crossing her arms over her chest and hunching her back.

"Don't," Kida warns, before her girlfriend can say more. Megara needs at least another two days with Kida around until she'll climb off her stubborn high horse and begin to see reason. "Lay down and rest. I'll come back after my team's meeting with Blizzard." She turns heel and heads for the door. "Get an extra pillow ready, because I'm falling asleep when I get back."

Right before Kida leaves, she hears a soft, "I'm sorry, Zeus."

Kida glances over her shoulder, looking straight into Megara's wide, pleading eyes. Kida sighs, opening the door. "I'm not the one you should be apologizing to," she says, rubbing the back of her neck. "I do love you, Herc," she affirms, when Megara's expression falls, "but you need to learn how to control yourself when I'm not around to help you." Without another word Kida exits the infirmary, feeling the distinct throb of an oncoming headache. "Where are the four Herc upset?" Kida asks, distracting herself from her thoughts.

"Decryption is busy researching and coordinating the current mission," Calhoun answers, "but the other three are in the same place."

Kida's eyebrows creep into her hairline. "That's convenient," she says, her feet taking her in a slow, mindless direction. "Where are they?" she asks, when Calhoun doesn't continue.

A short silence descends before Calhoun huffs out a phantom breath and says, "Training room four," she answers.

"Hm, should've guessed it'd be something like that," Kida replies, switching to her full stride and heading in that direction. "Anything else I should be aware of?"

"It's pretty intense in there," Calhoun says. "It'd be better for you to go into the observation area first until they finish."

Kida nods. "Okay," she agrees, and walks the remainder of the trip in silence.

When she arrives, Kida stands at a side entrance, waiting for Calhoun to clear her access. Anna must have locked out the arena with her elite authority.

"Here we are," Calhoun murmurs, just as the door opens. Kida steps inside and walks the narrow path to the observation area. "Just so you know," Calhoun continues, "these three don't know you're here. So don't go into the arena until they call a full stop on the action, okay?"

"Sure thing," Kida says, not eager to get into a fight so soon after getting back anyway.

Kida exits the path into a moderate size observation lounge, lined with benches and scattered chairs. Beside the full wall of reinforced double sided glass is a locked, automated sliding door – the entrance or exit between the training area and the spectator room.

Grabbing a chair along the way and placing it front and center, Kida sits and crosses her ankles, watching the scene before her.

Against the center of three walls are weapons are propped on special stands, capable of bearing the weight of heavy or magical artifacts. On the far wall is Ariel's trident, a heavy weapon capable of changing the properties of air into water and, as such, allowing Ariel to control it like water. On the left are a pair of prototype pistols, ones capable of firing plasma rounds and condensing surrounding gas or liquid into a close-distance shotgun style blast. The last item, on the right, is a silver quarterstaff with a white flag tied at the top that says, 'makeshift'.

Deciding not to question it, Kida turns her attention to the dueling metas. The three are locked in an impressive feat of hand-to-hand combat, each person attacking and blocking the other two simultaneously. She frowns, however, when she realizes that physical skill is the only ability each meta is utilizing.

"What are they trying to accomplish, Calhoun?" Kida asks, needing the specification.

"Each of them are trying to retrieve their respective weapons," Calhoun replies. "All powers besides super strength are prohibited until at least one person retrieves their weapon. When that happens, all powers are allowed to try to make said person drop their weapon; if this happens, only super strength is allowed once more."

"To what end?" Kida questions, not understanding the point.

"Whoever can retrieve and keep their weapon for five minutes wins," Calhoun answers. "So far Ariel has won eight times, Rapunzel has won twice, and Anna has won zero."

If nothing else, the use of proper names confirms this area's lockout status.

Then, a thought hits Kida hard enough to make her head snap back. "Rapunzel won?" she asks, hating how surprised she sounds. She doesn't want to come across as prudish—in thinking a healer can't fight—but the truth of the matter is that Rapunzel _doesn't_ fight aside occasional bouts of self defense. She has a steady shooting hand, Kida knows, but it's not a skill Kida's ever seen the healer use outside of training.

"Ariel's been working with her the last couple days," Calhoun says, by way of explanation.

Kida's eyebrow furrow. "A couple days isn't all that much," she says, dubious.

"I know," Calhoun agrees. "And while Rapunzel is improving faster than initially calculated, her victories can be attributed to her teaming up with Anna."

"Really?" Kida asks, her eyes drawn back to the fight. She watches Anna, seeing her move with a precise fluidity that takes years to achieve.

Calhoun chuckles, unconcerned. "Anna was trained by the old elites so they wouldn't worry about her when she wasn't at base," she reveals. "Her instincts are quicker than most because of it, and adding super strength to the equation wasn't that big a deal to her." Her voice turns grave and she adds, "It's her other abilities that she can't get a handle on."

"If I'm allowed to ask," Kida says, "what _are_ Anna's abilities?"

Calhoun hums. "I'm not quite sure," she says, but Kida knows a misdirection when she hears it. "Either way, trying to use them has reduced her to a useless mess," Calhoun continues. "She may have activated abilities now but she can't use them, not until her body adjusts."

A cry has Kida refocusing her attention on the battle.

"Roads!" Anna shouts, ducking under a kick and slamming her fist into Ariel's groin. Ariel flies backwards and crashes into the wall, then collapses with her hands between her legs, her body trembling with pain.

"I have a name, you know," Rapunzel grunts, pushing herself upright with shaky arms. She grimaces and spits out blood.

"Roads is easier to say," Anna says, with a cheeky grin that doesn't quite cover her concern.

Rapunzel narrows her eyes. "You're lucky I need you," she retorts.

Anna laughs and bolts towards the quarterstaff. "And you're lucky I like you!" she calls.

Rapunzel's eyes widen. "Shit!" she yelps, turning heel and scrambling towards her own weapon.

Anna grabs her weapon first, but she realizes the error of her ways too late when she hears Rapunzel's pistols whirring to life. "Oh, fuck me," Anna groans, waving and spinning her quarterstaff in expert motions, knocking all incoming shots off course.

Ariel pushes to her knees, hands still on her crotch and tears stinging her eyes. "Punzie!" she cries, sounding like a wounded animal.

"Don't look at her!" Anna shouts. "She'll draw you in with her puppy eyes!"

Rapunzel grits her teeth and follows the advice, but the firing of her pistols slow. After a moment, her eyes flash with alarm. "Anna, you asshole," she barks, "you fractured her pelvic bone!"

"Well don't _heal_ her!" Anna snaps back. "You know we'll fucking lose the moment she's back in the game!"

"But—" Rapunzel tries.

"We'll give her apology snuggles later," Anna interrupts. "Sorry, Ariel," she calls, twisting around a shot and sprinting full-tilt towards Rapunzel. "I promise to make it up to you!"

Rapunzel narrows her eyes and, with a flick of her thumbs, switches the settings on her pistols. Pointing her guns in separate directions, she fires.

 _Boom_.

The crack of the shots are so loud that, even with the sound dampening qualities of the observation room, Kida's ears ring in the aftermath.

Anna dodges, but air still rips through the side of her leg and she's thrown back. She releases her weapon to control her fall, but it doesn't stop her injured leg from smashing into the floor. She cries out and grabs her leg with both hands, trying to stem the bleeding.

Ariel's eyes widen. "Anna!" she cries and, in the next instant, the entire room is submerged in water. Rapunzel doubles over from an unseen blow to the gut and her pistols are ripped from her hands. Then the water is gone without a trace, almost as if it hadn't even been there to begin with. "Anna?" Ariel asks again. She tries to stand but collapses to her side with a whimper, one hand remaining between her legs and using the other to drag herself along the floor.

Rapunzel sighs and wipes at the scuff marks on her shirt. "You two are so dramatic," she utters.

Then, as if nothing were wrong to begin with, Ariel leaps to her feet and sprints to Anna. Anna scrambles to get upright, even when water engulfs her former injury and whisks away the blood.

"Gentle, gentle!" Anna shrieks, in vain. Ariel tackles her to the floor and pins her there, littering her face with kisses.

"I, was so, worried," Ariel says between kisses, her hands cupping Anna's sides.

Anna bursts into surprised laughter, wiggling and grabbing Ariel's wrists. Ariel leans back, her eyes darting between Anna's face and abdomen a couple times before the dots connect.

An adorable yet evil smile curls on Ariel's lips, and she says, "You're ticklish."

Anna's eyes widen. "No," she says, struggling harder. "No, no, n— _aieee!_ " She squeals and laughs, squirming underneath the marine alien. "N-no, s-stop!" she giggles, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

Rapunzel chortles and stands beside Ariel. "Consider this your punishment for being a jerk," she says, with a wide smile.

Without looking, Ariel buries her face in Rapunzel's midriff, a purr roaring at the back of her throat when Rapunzel's fingers lace themselves in her hair. Anna, using the distraction to dislodge Ariel's hands, sits upright and hugs the marine alien.

"I'm sorry for hurting you," Anna says, with a gentle kiss to Ariel's collarbone.

All at once Kida feels awkward and unwelcome. She clears her throat and stands, making to leave until the AI stops her.

"You can go in now, if you'd like," Calhoun says.

Kida glances to the way she came and then back to the three metas. A lump raises in her throat at how intimate they look, and she turns away. "That's fine," she croaks. "I don't want to intrude."

Ariel, Rapunzel, and Anna. Now that's a trio relationship Kida never saw coming.

"They're not about to rip each other's clothes off and have sex," Calhoun drawls. "Well," she amends, "maybe the clothes ripping part; but that one has nothing to do with sex."

Kida raises a halting hand. "I can assure you," she says, "you do _not_ need to go into detail."

"Considering the opinion you just formed," Calhoun says, "I'm pretty sure I _do_." Instead of explaining, however, she just laughs. "I don't really care to, though. So go on, don't let me stop you."

Kida frowns and opens her mouth to question, when—

"Or maybe," Anna stresses, "it was an elaborate aerial assault." Ariel's ears twitch and she looks at Anna with wide, curious eyes. "Not you, Ariel," Anna backtracks. "Aerial as in by air, like bombs, or a plane, or, uh, metas like you, I guess."

Rapunzel flashes a mischievous grin. "So what you're saying," she says, "is that Ariel can do aerial assaults."

Ariel laughs and Anna narrows her eyes, but the twitching of the corners of her lips betray her amusement.

"Rapunzel, no," Anna scolds.

"Rapunzel yes!" Rapunzel retorts with a boisterous laugh that has Anna rolling her eyes.

"Goddamnit I hate you," Anna says.

Rapunzel smiles. "I'm pretty sure you don't," she chuckles.

Anna's eyes soften. "Yeah," she relents, "I don't."

"Does this mean we love each other?" Ariel interrupts, and Anna giggles.

"Not quite," Anna says.

"Yeah 'cuz fuck you guys," Rapunzel jests with a grin.

"That's the problem, you won't!" Ariel exclaims, and Anna collapses in a fit of hysterics.

Kida's eyes soften. She can't recall the last time she saw Rapunzel joke around like this, or Ariel look this happy, and she certainly didn't see Anna in any state other than depressed before leaving for Berk.

"I'll talk to them later," Kida decides, and heads towards the hallway.

"It's okay to speak with them now, you know," Calhoun encourages, though Kida hears the hesitance.

Kida shakes her head. "No, I'll let them have this," she says, with a sad smile. "They have to face the real world again soon enough, but in the meantime . . . they deserve to pretend this hell doesn't exist."


	23. Hello, Sister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N** : Thanks again to Those-Who Walk-Alone (FFnet) for betaing my work, along with my newest beta Elsannity (FFnet).
> 
> * * *

Six and a Half Years Ago 

Anna's flames flare as she flies under Black Dragon's tail and twists when it whips to strike her. "I only want to talk!" Anna cries, for what feels like the hundredth time.

Black Dragon twists, her glistening midnight black scales reflecting the enraged green of her eyes. "Don't you dare take me for a fool, ape," she growls, her voice deep and gravelly.

"If I had taken you for a fool I'm pretty sure I'd be dead right now," Anan retorts. "Whoa!" she cries, using her flames to dodge a swipe of claws. "For f— just cut it out!" Anna hollers.

"You started this," Black Dragon snarls with a wicked glint in her slitted pupils. "It's only fair that I end it."

Anna's eyes widen and she shoots straight into the sky, buying herself time to think of a way to battle, let alone defeat, a seventy foot tall dragon with an immunity to fire and a resistance to crushing blows. Hellfire or hellfire smoke are the most obvious solutions, but with it comes the uncertainty of abilities she's neither trained with nor knows the limit or consequences of.

Black Dragon roars and launches herself into the air, her wings beating in mighty strokes that send the flames Anna's using to keep upright askew, leaving her scrambling for balance. Anna regains her composure just in time to dodge Black Dragon's teeth, and she rockets even higher into the sky until she breaks through the top of the heavy clouds. She grits her teeth, going over everything she's been taught of meta dragons.

Meta dragons—dragons with the ability to transform into a standard form other than a dragon; all descendants from one royal line or another—gain powers depending on the environment they grew up in. If the environment is isolated or monotonous then the meta dragon will grow up weak, sometimes to the point of not being able to breathe or be resistant to fire. If the environment is hostile or power based then the meta dragon will grow up resistant to everything it was exposed to as a child and will gain abilities based on those threats.

Having grown up on Berk and, later, Omega Seven, Black Dragon is immune or resistant to most fire, extreme temperatures, weaponry, super strength, acid, poisons, and the vacuum of space. Abilities she's developed to combat her childhood environments is language translation and speech, bone resistance to extreme pressures, living without air, breathing under water, control over acidic fire, regular fire, super strength, a humanoid alternate form, and claws sharp enough to cut through titanium.

The only thing Anna can think of that may give her the advantage—other than fighting when Black Dragon is in human form—is pushing the dragon past her tolerance levels of heat or poison.

"Okay," Anna breathes, rolling her shoulders, "let's do something stupid."

Flipping around, Anna propels herself towards the clouds, dodging Black Dragon when she emerges and grabs hold of her tail.

"No hard feelings!" Anna shouts, using her flames and super strength to spin Black Dragon and launch her towards the ground.

The dragon roars, disappearing as she falls through the cloud cover. Anna follows after, igniting the air around her into temperatures high enough to melt tungsten. James had ensured her that, with time, she could produce temperatures rivaling the surface temperature of Earth's sun, but that potential wasn't going to help her now.

The clouds hiss and scatter under the onslaught of heat.

"Whoa!" Anna cries, spinning out of the way of the flailing dragon, only just avoiding a claw to the face. "I miscalculated that," she jests in a low murmur, to distract herself from the fact that she almost had her head cut off.

Black Dragon spreads her wings to reposition herself, snarling from the strain it puts on her joints. Before she can even remotely reverse her momentum, Anna sends several steady jets of fire towards the ground to lower the upwards air pressure. Black Dragon spins in an instant, spitting a stream of green flames at the Protector.

Anna blasts herself out of the way, her eyes hardening when the acidic properties rain downwards after the fire burns itself out. If that had hit her, Anna doesn't doubt she'd be dead. She quirks an ironic smile. Looks like they both have versions of unstoppable fire. Her eyes light up at the thought.

"Yo, Dragon!" Anna shouts, flying to Black Dragon's level. "What happens when an immovable object encounters an unstoppable force?"

Black Dragon's eyes flash and she roars in Anna's face, sending strings of saliva and stray sparks of fire at her.

Anna hums as the spit sizzles to nothing when it hits her sphere of heat. "That's fair," she says. "Rude," she adds, "but fair."

"Rude?" Black Dragon growls, extending her paws as she lands hard enough to cave in the rocky surface. "What's rude is trying to force an unwilling party to be your partner."

"Teammate," Anna corrects, lowering herself to eye level a safe—enough—distance away.

Black Dragon rolls her eyes. "Call it whatever you want," she says, her eyes flashing with unsettling mirth, "but trust me, you won't get it."

Anna frowns. "You do realize that if you don't agree to join the League and go through rehabilitation we'll be forced to kill you, right?" she asks, then shakes her head. "Just— just  _change_ ," she says, meeting the dragon's gaze with pleading eyes "We're only here to stop the genocide and terrorization of the planets in this solar system – nothing in that requires us to kill the person responsible. Please don't make it come to that."

Black Dragon chuckles, low and dangerous. "You started this 'teammate' challenge," she rumbles, "and once it starts it only ends one of two ways; with us joining together or with one of us dead."

"Then join us!" Anna cries. "We've both had our fair share of killing, let's not add to it."

"As the challenger you must force me to concede to have me on your side," Black Dragon says with a reptilian smile. "You can try doing that with words if you'd like, ape, but I assure you that they stopped meaning anything to me a long time ago."

Anna nods regardless of how her chest aches. Persuasion has always been her greatest asset, so having it fail in major situations not once, but several times over the last couple of months hits the hero harder than it should. "Okay," she accepts, reading herself for action.

The dragon raises a scaly eyebrow. "Don't be so downtrodden," she says, although it doesn't sound encouraging. "It's less fun to kill people who've accepted defeat."

"I haven't accepted defeat. I just— I just—"Anna cuts herself off, her lips tightening into a hard line. "I've just accepted the fact that this recruitment will go as sour as the last."

At this Black Dragon pauses, her head lifting back. "I'm not your first?" she asks, an odd intonation to her voice.

Anna chuckles, empty and bitter. "No, you're not," she says, and runs a hand through her bangs. "I tried to make them listen to me," she murmurs, more to herself than anyone else. "All I wanted to do was help them, but the stubborn fools didn't believe clean slate second chances existed." She closes her eyes. "Even if they did, I don't think—"

Anna's eyes snap open, feeling the air pressure shift before hearing the sound of Black Dragon lunging at her. Anna tries to blast herself out of the way, but the disturbed air pressure pushes her flames the wrong way, and she tumbles into Black Dragon's mouth.

"Shit!" Anna yelps, her pocket of heat plummeting in temperature in the confusion. She tries to blast her way out, but the teeth come down, trapping Anna's legs amongst the rows of jagged teeth.

With a hissed breath, Anna shifts her legs just enough for the dragon's teeth to slice open small cuts in her thighs.

Black Dragon chuckles. "Don't be so eager to be bitten in half," she says, her tongue flicking over Anna's legs as she speaks.

The fire master shutters. "Oh, gross," she utters, and regrets it the next instant when Black Dragon clenches her jaw just enough for her teeth to dig into Anna's skin.

"You were an odd delight," Black Dragon says, her words only half slurred from speaking without moving her jaw, "so I'll give you the opportunity to speak any last words."

Anna's eyes harden, hellfire igniting at the back of her throat. "Mutual destruction isn't a bad way to go," she says, the howls of the dead echoing behind her teeth and lacing with her words with a haunting undertone.

Black Dragon stares at Anna with her visible eye, her nostrils flaring as if trying to smell the wailing cries of the afterlife. Anna's half tempted to ask if it actually does have a smell.

Jennifer exits supersonic flight in front of Black Dragon's head and kicks the dragon's snout upward, opening the massive maw enough for Anna to escape. The moment Anna blasts out of the way Jennifer punches downward with a concussive force that sends the dragon catapulting head first into the ground.

Anna watches in astonishment as the impact shatters the ground and leaves Black Dragon blinking stars from her vision.

"I see you were having a good chat," Jennifer calls, her helm half dulling the effects of her sarcasm.

"Ha ha," Anna snaps, having half the mind to flip off her girlfriend for putting her in this situation to begin with. "What took you so long to get here, anyway?"

Jennifer shrugs. "I waited a bit to see if you could get the situation under control," she says.

Anna bristles. "She almost ate me, Athena!" she barks.

Jennifer laughs. "And if your blood got on her she'd regret it," she replies.

"Getting my blood on her doesn't mean I'd still be alive in the aftermath!" Anna bellows, gesturing to the dragon below them. "Case and point being the mess you freak'n flew into. God!" She grabs at her hair in frustration. "What is  _wrong_  with you, leaving me alone in a situation like that?"

Jennifer tilts her armoured head. "Is it so hard to believe that I have faith in your abilities?" she asks.

Black Dragon rips her head from the ground with a roar loud enough to rattle Anna's bones. The dragon flaps her wings, sending Anna's flames askew and throwing her off balance. Jennifer turns her head and stares the dragon down, her hovering unaffected by the turbulent winds.

"My name is Athena," Jennifer introduces herself, unfazed by the blatant show of aggression. "Arson and I have come on behalf of the Protector League and wish to speak with you."

"I know exactly what you want," Black Dragon snarls, acidic green flames hissing between her teeth, "but I won't let you leash me. My will is my own and I won't allow you to gain control over me."

Jennifer raises her hands in a placating motion. "We have no intention of leashing you," she says. "All we want to do is talk about the possibility of joining forces." She doesn't mention what will happen should Black Dragon refuse, and Anna grits her teeth, hoping despite everything that it doesn't come to that.

Black Dragon laughs, loud and cold. "Is that what you call it nowadays?" she asks, levelling Jennifer with a challenging stare. "Fine. Then allow Arson and I to talk with our fists, and should she win then consider us a team; but if she loses," she chuckles, baring her teeth in a makeshift smile, "then she'll be dead and you'll be next."

Anna frowns behind her mask. "Why just me?" she asks. "If you're considering joining the League shouldn't you be fighting both of us?"

Black Dragon tilts her head and glares at Anna with one eye. "If you feel inadequate fighting alone then you shouldn't have started a 'talk' you couldn't finish," she snarls.

Anna throws her hands into the air. "And maybe I shouldn't sit on the toilet long enough to get groove marks on my butt cheeks, but I do it anyway," she retorts.

Jennifer covers her armoured face with a hand and shakes her head. Black Dragon raises a scaly eyebrow, her showing eye betraying her bemusement.

"How does that anything to do with partnership?" Black Dragon asks, her voice reverberating through the broken rocky plain.

Anna flushes. "I— what I was trying— you see— well you know how some things are pointless but you do them anyway?" she asks. Her eyes widen and she blurts, "Wait, no, that's not what I meant at all!"

" _Arson_ ," Jennifer says, through her in-ear comm, " _can I talk to you for a second, alone?_ "

Black Dragon rolls her eyes, her enhanced hearing picking up the request regardless of discretion.

"If it's about keeping my motor mouth shut I think I already dropped the ball on that one," Anna calls, attempting to play off her girlfriend's concern.

Taking the hint, Jennifer waves a flippant hand. "It isn't a sin to make sure you keep yourself in check from here on out, is it?" she asks.

"A sin, no," Anna relents, playing along, "but inappropriate timing? Yes. Now can we please get along with this before I'm crushed into dragon food?"

Black Dragon scoffs. "You're going to turn into 'dragon food' regardless of how this pans out," she utters.

Jennifer growls, just loud enough to be heard through her helm. "Okay," she clips, ignoring the genocidal dragon, "then here's my question, Arson: do you want to fight Black Dragon alone as per her request, or do you want me to help?"

Anna's muscles lock up. It's a simple question on the surface, but Anna knows Jennifer well enough to hear what she's really asking;  _do you want the opportunity to recruit Black Dragon, or do you want to kill her?_

"I'll fight her," Anna says, sounding more strangled than she'd like. She laughs, loud and forced. "I mean I can't have a beautiful woman thinking I can't finish what I start."

Black Dragon snaps her teeth, her eyes flashing with malice. "Flattery won't help you," she snarls.

Anna shrugs. "It's truth, not flattery," she says. "You're physically appealing as a dragon or a human, but emotionally you're about as appealing as a deformed, blood-encrusted sword." She flies upwards to dodge a swipe from Black Dragon's tail. "Not real friendly, either," Anna continues, "but . . . I can live with that." She smiles when the dragon gives her a look, even though the hero knows her mouth can't be seen.

Anna admits that she may be a fool for hoping this recruitment ends better than the last three had, but she's convinced a stubborn oaf to join the League before, so it's possible she can do it again. She just hopes it happens sooner rather than later, or else her dreams will be more occupied by the dead than the living.

Black Dragon snorts and shakes her head. She steps back, blinking something out of her vision. Jennifer tilts her head at the display, then glances at Anna's torn up uniform and blood smeared skin. Huffing an amused puff of air, Jennifer turns her attention back to the dragon and watches.

Black Dragon narrows her eyes at Anna, her slight swaying diminished by her four legs acting as centering pillars. "What did you do to me?" she demands.

Anna raises her hands in surrender. "Don't look at me," she says. "I didn't tell you to bite me."

Black Dragon scowls. "Your blood is toxic," she snarls.

"It is," Anna replies.

"Toxic enough to affect even me," Black Dragon elaborates, as if searching for something, anything, to explain why.

Anna rubs the back of her neck. "I'm a minor hell meta," she admits.

"Arson," Jennifer says, a sharp warning in her tone.

"No, Athena," Anna says, rebuking the unsaid argument. "If I don't tell her then what happens? We'll fight again and I'll be forced to resort to abilities that have the power to shred through almost every manifestation of matter that we know of." She turns to the dragon. "And I'm not going to battle her again without her knowing that first."

Black Dragon bares her teeth and growls, fire burning at the back of her throat. "I don't believe you," she snaps.

Anna shrugs, playing off the way her heart twists. "That's fine," she says. "I suppose—" her vocal cords clamp up and she sighs, her eyes flicking to the dreary horizon. "I suppose there never really was a peaceful alternative to this one."

Jennifer hesitates. "Arson, I—" she stops herself and lays an armoured hand on Anna's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"It's fine," Anna interrupts, in a tone that says she's definitely not fine. She waves a hand behind them. "Find a place to observe. Don't get involved, or I'll hurt you."

Jennifer's hand twitches against Anna's shoulder, as if she wants to say something but doesn't know what. After a moment the heaven hero nods and flies off regardless, leaving the two fire masters to fight amongst themselves.

Black Dragon scoffs. "She has more confidence in you than you have in yourself," she mocks.

Anna chuckles, but it feels empty. "Maybe," she allows, "but in this case, I think she just wants to get out of the blast radius."

The dragon quirks her head. "What do you mean?" she asks.

Anna rolls her shoulders and ignites hellfire in the back of her throat. "I've never utilized any of my hell powers in combat before," she says, the echoes of the damned lacing with her words. "I'm afraid neither of us know the amount of destruction that can occur from their use." Her eyes harden. "I can't say I'm excited to find out, either."

Black Dragon narrows her eyes, but her posture relaxes. "Nor am I," she admits. She sits on her hunches. "If a trace amount of your blood can make me dizzy, I am not eager to find out what a more active hell ability could accomplish." She raises a halting paw. "In saying that," she adds, before Anna can interrupt, "I would like to know what these active abilities are."

Anna barks a sharp, single laugh. "Why, so you can figure out how to counter it the next time?" she asks, more scathing than she intends.

The dragon smirks. "No, so I can determine whether or not fighting you right now is still an option," she says.

"Unless you want half your body to disappear in the blink of an eye, I'd say not," Anna retorts, and sighs. She gestures to the ground. "If you want me to tell you, I want to talk when you're in human form."

Black Dragon raises an eyebrow. "Pray tell why I'd do that?" she asks.

"Because I can kill you whenever I please regardless," Anna snaps, pointing to her mouth. "Or do you think these whispered howls are fake?"

Black Dragon hums and, without a word, transforms into human form.

A knot loosens in Anna's chest and she lowers herself to the ground a couple meters in front of the dragon. Anna deactivates her hellfire and takes a moment to reacquaint herself with the alien's appearance.

Black Dragon wears glistening black dragon scale armour from head to toe. The only semi-questionable part is her headgear: a black dragon scale crown which doubles as facial armour, curling around her eyes, down her nose, hiding her cheeks and framing her mouth. Her eyes, a rich emerald green with thin swirls of black, have pupils like a cat's just like when she's in dragon form, and her skin is a light beige, as if she doesn't go out into the sun much.

The dragon smirks. "You're staring," she says.

Anna blinks and meets that simmering green gaze with her own. "Sorry," she replies.

Black Dragon waves a dismissive hand. "Doesn't matter," she says. "Chances are you'll be seeing more of me anyway, so you might as well get used to it now." She extends her hand. "My name is Meli, by the way," she adds.

Anna's eyebrows furrow. "Okay," she says, but doesn't move any closer.

Black Dragon raises an eyebrow. "You won't tell me yours?" she asks, lowering her arm.

"I could tell you my name was Archduke Hairyturd and it'd be as accurate as the name you gave me," Anna reborts.

Black Dragon smirks wider, her eyes flashing as if this were a predatory game. "Meli is my nickname, usable by potential mates such as yourself," she replies.

Anna's brain shorts. "Wait what?" she asks, thinking about the dragon's behaviour since they'd met. "I don't"—she frowns—"we didn't discuss becoming mates?"

"Sure we did," Black Dragon replies. "Why do you think we've been fighting? You engaged me in a mating ritual with that initial flame show of yours."

Anna flushes a shade darker than her hair. "I was trying to protect the village," she squeaks. "I thought we were fighting because I got in your way."

Black Dragon's eyes flash, and a dark smile curls on her lips. "Re-e-e-ally?" she drawls. "So in other words, you're another worthless ape?"

Anna reignites her hellfire and pulls down her mask, allowing Black Dragon to see the full effect of the black flames hissing behind her teeth and the tar-black smoke wafting out the corners of her mouth. "The only thing about to become worthless is you," she snarls.

Black Dragon pauses, her nostrils flaring with several short sniffs. She frowns and rubs the bottom of her nose. "That smoke smells like death," she says.

"It's hellfire smoke," Anna drones, "and unless you don't want to end up as dead as it smells, I'd recommend not breathing in the actual fumes."

Black Dragon thinks for a moment, then changes the topic. "You know I won't obey the laws of your League should I join," she says. "Your threats, while backed, won't control me. I am a proud dragon, and I shan't bend to your will just because you say so."

"I'm not asking you to bend to my will," Anna says. "I'm asking you to help make this galaxy a better place."

Black Dragon laughs, long and hard. "You're asking  _me_  to make the galaxy a better place?" she cackles.

"Yes," Anna says without hesitation. "You are familiar with pain and death and you know that killing is sometimes necessary for the greater good. You know that situations aren't black or white and that sometimes being the hero means making villainous choices, and we need metas prepared to face that reality. We already have a small group of elite Leaguers who have and can go through these murky waters to do what's right, but we were hoping you could join our ranks as well."

"'Our ranks'?" Black Dragon repeats, amused. " _You_  are a part of these elites?"

Anna flashes an empty smile. "What, do you really think that I'm incapable of murder?" she asks.

"I think you're incapable of making painful decisions regarding sentient life," Black Dragon retorts.

Anna shrugs. "Then I suppose it's a good thing no one Elite makes the decisions by themselves," she says. She sucks in a deep breath. "So what's it going to be?" she asks, refocusing the conversation. "Do you want to join the League and play by our rules, or do you want to die?"

A dark smile curls Black Dragon's lips and, in a venomous purr, she asks, "Letting me go isn't an option?"

"Why would it be?" Anna asks. "You are cruel and genocidal. Without a foundation and guidelines there will be nothing to check your actions. You know as well as I that you won't change if you stay here, and if you won't change then you're a threat that must be dealt with."

"How can you be certain I won't be a threat within your ranks?" Black Dragon poses.

"I'm not," Anna replies. "All I know is that I want to give you a second chance, and I pray you want one, too."

Black Dragon crosses her arms over her chest and stares into the distance. After a time, she says, "I will not be bound by your laws." Anna's expression falls and Black Dragon walks forward. "I'm not saying no, per se," she assures, "but my compliance will require a . . . deal, between us."

Anna narrows her eyes. "What sort of deal?" she asks, resisting the urge to step back in wake of the advance.

The dragon sniggers. "Allow me to mark your blood with my pheromones, and call me Meli when we're alone," she says.

Anna's eyes widen and she raises her hands. "Whoa! Wait a minute," she says, "I have a girlfriend—"

"And I have a couple dozen lovers," Black Dragon says, stopping inches from Anna. She wraps her fingers around Anna's left wrist – lighter than Anna thought the dragon was capable of yet painful all the same. "What's your point?" she whispers, blowing regular fire over Anna's skin.

Anna flushes, the foreign flame stoking the power in her veins. "What will the pheromones do?" she asks.

Black Dragon smirks. "Anyone with a good enough nose will be able to smell who you belong to," she says. "Once you're marked you'd become my property—in a token sense, I assure; otherwise I'm sure you'd kill me—and if anyone fucks with what's mine, I get to fuck with them. Deal?"

Anna knows enough of Black Dragon's rep sheet to know how she 'fucks with' people, but prayed this trip would stop those atrocities outright one way or another.

"If that's what determines it, then your ownership has an expiration date," Anna says instead, and tries not to wince at the piercing glower she receives in turn. "I'm not trying to insult or slight you, my body is literally built to flush out and destroy toxins, poisons, harmful substances, and foreign matter."

Her eyes alighting at the challenge, Black Dragon chuckles low in her chest and says, "Then I'll just keep marking you. And if, one day, your body accepts my pheromones, then you'll belong to be for real."

 _Ha, yeah, like_ that _would ever happen_ , Anna thinks, but deactivates her hellfire all the same. "It'll have to take hold completely, not just in part," she says, "and if it ever does, you'll have to win a challenger bout. If you accept these terms, and those of the League, then you may mark me, Meli."

Black Dragon's slitted pupils round into something to those of a pleased feline and she sinks her canines into Anna's wrist. Anna jumps, and yelps when a warm liquid enters her bloodstream. A rumbled dragon-like purr reverberates against Anna's skin and the hero grits her teeth, hoping beyond all hope that she won't regret this as much as Meli is going to regret touching her blood.

* * *

Present Day 

Anna stands in front of the massive sliding doors leading to the old elite living quarters. She frowns and scratches her bicep, no longer sure if she wants to go through with this.

A hand rests on her shoulder.

"It's okay," Rapunzel says with a soft, strained smile. "We can do this another time."

Anna's lips narrow into a hard line and she glances at Ariel who, for some reason, is only wearing cargo pants and a workout bra: no socks, no shoes, and—presumably—no underwear. Ariel interlaces her fingers with Anna's and grins.

"Punzie's right," Ariel says, and waves a hand at the bland entryway. "We can do this anytime we want to, but we've put off dealing with Calhoun's situation for"—she pauses and counts on her free hand—"three days. It's about time we address it."

Anna sighs and massages the bridge of her nose. The truth is, Calhoun and Anna had already came to the consensus that, where AA Gatekeeper is concerned, there's not a whole lot any of them could do, so they agreed to have Anna keep Ariel and Rapunzel from freaking out while Calhoun tried tracking down leads. Calhoun made note of the two obvious leads—Chel and Archangel—but has otherwise turned up empty. She asked for more time to snoop around and Anna acquiesced, but she could only keep her fellow elites occupied with training for so long.

"And we will," Anna says, "but this . . ."—she releases a shuttering breath—"if we don't do this now, I don't know if I'll find the courage again."  _Courage_ , her brain mocks,  _I doubt you even remember what that means_.

Ariel and Rapunzel share a look over Anna's head. Ariel nods, and Rapunzel huffs out a frustrated breath.

"Yeah, okay," Rapunzel relents, rubbing the back of her neck with more force than necessary. "How do we get in?"

Anna shrugs and waves a hand at the door. "We state our authorizations and request access," she says, then quirks a humourless smile. "In the days of the old elites the doors would open and close from elite proximity rather than vocal requests, but since the first Incident—" Anna snaps her mouth shut, her jaw muscles bulging.

Rapunzel winces and Ariel's eyes soften.

"I'm sorry," Ariel says.

Anna chokes out a laugh so fake she has to force herself not to cringe. "I'm the sorry fool here, not you," she deflects, releasing Ariel's hand and taking a step closer to the door. "ECA zero one, requesting access," she says, if only to steer the conversation away from her waking nightmares.

Rapunzel sighs, but follows along. "E one zero requesting access," she says.

"Elite nine requesting access," Ariel says. The other two send her a look. "What?" the marine meta asks, with a look far too innocent to be real. "That's basically what your weird numbering system alludes to."

"Hm," Rapunzel hums, her eyes lighting with mirth. "She has a point."

"Har-de-har-har," Anna drones, her chest tightening when the locks on the sliding door open in a deep metallic succession she knows far too well. "It's not my system anyway," she croaks, trying to distract herself. "Athena and Hades added to it, but it was already established before they got here by—"

"Anna," Ariel says, resting her hand on the villain's lower back, "you're shaking."

Anna hisses a trembling breath through her teeth. "Yeah," she airs, not even bothering to deny it. She crosses her arms over her chest and hunches in on herself. "Maybe we should have looked into the Calhoun situation instead," she mumbles, vehemently regretting every decision she's made in her life that's led her here. Well, more than usual, at least.

Over the speakers, Calhoun laughs. "Nope, this is fine," she says. "Go face your fears."

Anna glares at the closest camera. "I fucking hate you," she snarls.

"Maybe right now," Calhoun says, "but I'll be here for you to love again when you come back out."

Anna quirks an eyebrow. "Cocky little shit, aren't you?" she murmurs, turning her attention back to the elite living quarters.

The absence of the main barrier reveals the internal sanctum: a decent sized semi-circle area holding three doors. The door to the right has two side-by-side images, with Athena's symbol—a simplified flying eagle gripping a spear in its talons—on the left and Hades' symbol—a black crown covered in blue flames—on the right.

The door in the middle bares the numbers one to fifteen in a vertical row in descending order. On the left and right side of number one are treadmill and eatery symbols. On the left side of number two is Arson's flame and cog symbol, on the right side of number five is Bear's symbol—a sideways facing roaring bear—and number fifteen is flanked on both sides by Black Dragon's symbol – a rearing dragon with its claws bared and wings spread.

The door on the left—a sight that makes Anna sneer—bares two symbols: Archangel's set of semi-overlapping golden wings and Reaper's skull and scythe.

Behind them, the reinforced sliding doors clang shut.

Anna waves her hand at the middle door. "There are two rooms on each floor," she explains. "All of them are the same size and look the same, so you just have to decide what floor you want and what side."

Ariel shoots her hand into the air like a student with a question. "I call floor two, right side!" she exclaims. Anna only just suppresses her urge to cringe.

Rapunzel rolls her eyes. "Of course you do," she says, and glances at the numbers. "I guess if there's no difference," she says, thinking aloud, "I'll take floor three, either side."

Anna nods. "Alright," she assents, "then after your symbols show up there we can go check your new sleeping quarters."

Ariel tilts her head. "Why do we have to wait?" she asks.

"Because all unmarked rooms are locked," Anna explains. "We can bend the rules a bit by claiming more than one room like Black Dragon did, but that's about it."

Rapunzel purses her lips. "In other words," she says, "we could check out any of the old elite living quarters."

All the blood drains from Anna's face. "If you wanted to, yes," she replies, though her neutral answer is betrayed by her shaking voice. She clears her throat. "The only exception to that would be those rooms," she says, pointing to the door bearing the symbols of the two retired ultimates. She forces a smile. "In this case I'd consider that a blessing."

Rapunzel winces. "Sorry," she says.

"Don't be," Anna sighs, "it's not your fault you got wrapped up in my shit." Her eyes flick to the numbers, catching the moment Ariel's blue trident and Rapunzel's white and red semi-overlapping crosses appear on the door. "Alright," she murmurs, and walks up to it. It opens from her proximity, revealing an average sized square of space and three doors.

Anna gestures to the door straight ahead. "That leads to the gym and kitchen," she says, pushing a button on the wall to the left. "This, obviously, is the elevator to the other floors," she says, just as the elevator doors open. She jabs her thumb over her shoulder to the last door, another owned by Athena and Hades. "That's an internal shortcut, in case Athena and Hades didn't want to risk the outer door being open and being seen out of uniform."

"Well ain't that fancy," Rapunzel says, stepping into the elevator with the others.

"It's . . ." Anna frowns, trying to think of the right description. "It was cozy," she settles with.

Neither Ariel nor Rapunzel has to question the past tense.

The ride down to the second floor is quick and silent. On the level itself is a spacious dead-end hallway with three doors, smack in the middle of each of the three walls. The two that face each other bare Anna and Ariel's symbols, but the one at the far end of the hall remains barren.

"That's the bathroom," Anna explains, before either of the newer elites can question. "There's one on every floor."

Ariel grins. "So we'll be sharing?" she asks.

Anna frowns and sends Ariel a look. "I won't be sleeping here," she says.

Ariel's grin falters. "But this is where elites sleep," she says. She points to Arson's symbol. "And that's your room."

"Right now I'm under the guise of a civilian elite," Anna rebuts, "so I don't have a symbol and I certainly don't have a room in here dedicated to me." She shrugs. "At least in the eyes of the Leaguers who don't know how I am."

"I can say with certainty that no one in this base besides you knows how this elite living quarters business actually works," Rapunzel says. "For all they know you could be staying in an unmarked room."

"Let me word this differently," Anna says, "I  _don't want_  to sleep here." She eyes her symbol and her features fall. "If I'm honest, I don't even want to be here."

Rapunzel sighs. "I said you didn't have to do this," she says.

"And you're right, I didn't," Anna admits. "I could have just told you what to do and sent you in here on your own. I could have just stayed behind and answered any questions you might have had when you got back. I could have—" she cuts herself off with gritted teeth. "I've done a lot of things I regret in life. I tried running, hiding, and pretending those things weren't real, but if I'm going to face the Ambassadors again I need to face the facts.

"The old elite living quarters is empty because of me," Anna says, waving a hand at her surroundings. "And it hurts, because I know that everything I find in here will be a testament to how life was before the first Incident. Anything I see here will remind me of what I ruined, the lives I've destroyed, and the way things could have been if I had just—" She sucks in a harsh breath through her teeth. "It doesn't matter," she murmurs, heading towards Ariel's room.

Ariel follows after, an odd tilt to her head. "Athena forgave you for what you've done," she says.

Rapunzel snaps her focus to the marine meta. "Wait,  _what?_ " she blurts.

"It was a contingency message," Anna utters, tapping a few buttons on the door's access panel. "Calhoun sort-of conned me into watching it."  _And Ariel helped subdue the resultant memories that kept me awake all night_.

Ariel places a hand on Anna's shoulder. The marine meta waits until the villain looks at her before saying, "She forgave you, Anna." It appears Ariel is not as content letting this topic die like Anna is. Ariel's grip tightens and she adds, "At some point, you have to forgive yourself, too."

 _Not bloody likely_ , Anna thinks, but she forces a smile. "I'm working on it," she says instead. She presses a button and waves to the door as it opens. "Wanna look inside?"

Ariel sighs through her nose, her eyes shimmering with sorrow. She dips her head and kisses Anna's temple. "I'll be here for you whether you want me or not," she murmurs, her lips curling into a smile against Anna's skin. "I need to make sure my home is in good repair, no matter how desperate it is to fall apart."

Anna smiles despite herself and rests her hands on Ariel's neck. "I think your home needs an overhaul," she jokes.

Ariel giggles. "Yeah, it needs a fair bit of work," she chortles, kissing Anna's nose, then her cheek. "But I wouldn't trade you for the world."

In the background, Rapunzel chuckles. "You know," she says, "even being in the know about Ariel's situation doesn't diminish how much it seems like she's trying to create a polygamous relationship with everyone she meets."

Ariel turns and stares at the healer with a gaze far too innocent to be real. "You mean that's not what I'm supposed to do?" she asks.

Rapunzel raises an eyebrow. "Don't play dumb with me," she says.

Anna pops her head over Ariel's shoulder, a fake frown of concern on her lips. "Wait, does this mean we're not having a kinky threesome later?" she questions.

Surprised laughter booms from Ariel's lips. Rapunzel rolls her eyes, but smiles all the same. Anna flashes a shit eating grin and detaches herself from Ariel.

"Okay," Anna says, walking into Ariel's room. "Minimum furnishings have already been provided, so all you really have to do is liven the place up with your own stuff."

The room, as large as the first floor of a house, has a king-sized bed with beige sheets, two end tables, a padded bench at the end of the bed, a desk, a chair, a dresser, and a walk-in closet. Besides those, the room is barren and lifeless.

Anna points to the largest empty space. "You have room for an above ground pool if you'd rather sleep in water," she says, then pauses. "Or if you just want to swim without leaving your room."

Ariel's eyes light up. "That would be  _amazing_ ," she gushes, bouncing from foot to foot. She prances further into the room, like a child on Christmas day.

Rapunzel nudges Anna with her shoulder, a slight smile on her lips as she watches the marine meta squeal over her new room.

"Ariel can summon water on a whim and control it's confines," Rapunzel says, her eyes never leaving the excited meta. "Why would she need a pool?"

"I doubt she can control water while she's sleeping," Anna replies, "and a pool would ensure her stuff won't suffer water damage."

"Anna!" Ariel cries, bouncing on the bed. "Anna!" she calls again, without giving any room for Anna to actually respond. "Anna!"

"Yes, Ariel?" Anna shouts, over another 'Anna'.

Ariel stops bouncing on the bed and pats it, her pupils blown and a purr rumbling in her throat.

Rapunzel chuckles. "I think she wants you to join her," she says.

Anna hums, a genuine smile curling her lips. "So it seems," she says. She takes a couple steps forward then turns around, offering her hand to Rapunzel. "Care to join us?" she asks. There's a half second of hesitation before Rapunzel laces her fingers with Anna's.

 _Three days can't fix everything_ , Anna admits, leading them both to the bed. Elite level access to the archives helped Rapunzel warm up to her but she still holds her reservations, with good reason. Rapunzel agreed to join Anna's cause under the name of a similar goal and a common enemy, not because of like or trust. The healer downplays her suspicion around Ariel, but that's about the extent of her discretion.

The first thing Ariel does is pull Rapunzel in for a long, open-mouthed kiss.

Anna grins and lays down, content letting Rapunzel take the brunt of Ariel's affection.

Right before Anna's head hits the pillow, however, her eye catches something strange. She props herself on her elbows and looks out the open door to the one on the opposite side of the hall. What she sees makes her frown.

"Calhoun," Anna says, catching the attention of the other two elites, "can you refresh my memory on something?"

"Sure," Calhoun replies. "What is it?"

"Have I ever considered changing my symbol?" Anna asks.

Ariel tilts her head, and Rapunzel narrows her eyes.

"Never seriously, as far as the base's memory goes," Calhoun says. "Why, do you want to?"

"No," Anna says, sitting all the way up. "Can you explain something for me?"

"That would depend on what you need explained," Calhoun returns.

Anna hums, her eyes hardening. "If I've never considered changing Arson's symbol, then why the hell isn't it over my door?" she asks.

Ariel and Rapunzel jump, their focus snapping to the opposite room.

Rapunzel shifts, her muscles tightening. "It was your symbol before we came in here," she says.

"And now it's not," Anna counters. She gets out of bed and heads towards her room, unable to tear her eyes away from the new symbol: a half gold, half crimson elaborate set of doors, with the crimson door half open.

The moment Anna reaches the hallway, however, the symbol returns to her regular flame and clog. Her fingers curl into fists and she eyes the access panel. Is she strong enough to face the life she used to have in order to figure out what the hell is going on?

"Could it be Chel?" Calhoun wonders.

"If it is," Anna answers, only half paying attention, "we can be assured we won't be able to trace it back to her."

Sucking in a deep breath that doesn't provide half the confidence she actually needs, Anna walks to the access panel.

Rapunzel's eyes flash with alarm. "Anna—" she tries protesting.

"I don't want to face my old life," Anna interrupts, "but right now something in that past may be threatening the fragile peace I've managed to find." She flashes an empty smile to no one. "Besides, I've always known I'd have to face myself eventually."

"You won't be facing yourself."

The trio whirls, only to be confronted by a darker woman with long, curly black hair and shimmering hazel eyes. She wears sandals, paint stained sweat pants, a loose red and orange tank top, and an oversized chocolate brown sweater with the sleeves rolled up. On her exposed skin curls small but elaborate black tattoos, save two side-by-side blue slash marks running from right beside her left ear to just below her jaw line.

The woman's lips curl into a worn smile, her eyes shining with millennia's worth of knowledge and the harsh responsibility that comes with it. "Hey, Anna," she says, with an undertone that speaks of a shared history Anna can't recall partaking in.

A strange noise—a mix between a cat and a bird—whines in Ariel's throat and she steps forward. "I like your tattoos," she says, not looking the least bit alarmed by  _how this woman got in here_.

The woman laughs and reaches out, caressing Ariel's forearm. "They're birthmarks," she says, a kind sparkle twinkling in her eyes, "but thank you."

With a delighted shine to her features, Ariel lays her hand over the woman's.

Anna narrows her eyes. This newcomer knows Trideum culture.

Rapunzel reaches for her weapon, but her eyes pinch when she remembers she didn't bring it. "Those are a little too elaborate to be birthmarks," she accuses.

"For most species, yes," the woman agrees, "but my kind are a bit of an exception. Or, at least, the purebreds are."

"And what, pray tell," Rapunzel grits, "is your 'kind'?"

The woman hums and rocks back on her heels. "The gatekeepers," she replies, with a knowing smile. "I'm sure you've heard of them?"

Anna's eyes flash and, in an instant, flames are spitting around her hands. "Are you working with Alpha Alpha?" she snarls.

"God no," the woman laughs, but it's strained. "I'm afraid I couldn't be as cruel as our father unless I actualize, which is something I'm sincerely trying to avoid." She holds out her hand. "I'm Moana Landalis. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Anna frowns, her hearing replaced by a ringing so loud that it drowns out the sounds around her. She has a sibling? That would explain how Moana got in here; with Alpha Alpha's blood in her veins, there's no telling what heaven and hell powers she has access to.

As if suddenly overcome by a trance, Anna dismisses her flames and shakes Moana's hand.

"What do you mean, 'actualize'?" Rapunzel asks, hooking a finger in one of the belt loops on Ariel's pants to pull her back. The marine meta doesn't resist.

Moana's shoulders slump, her eyes shining with something Anna can't decipher. "It's difficult to explain in detail," she says.

"There's no harm in trying," Ariel says, a heartwarming smile gracing her lips.

Moana winces. "There . . . might be, actually," she says, her gaze flicking to Anna's door. "Our father is strict about keeping me away from his other children, so the fact that he hasn't punished me yet speaks volumes."

Anna's heart lodges in her throat. "I have other siblings?" she asks.

Rapunzel raises an eyebrow at the villain. " _That's_  what you get out of that?" she asks. "Not the questionable actions of your father?"

"He is  _not_  my father," Anna snaps. "The man I thought was my birth father is dead and my adopted dad disowned me. All  _this_  man has done—that we know of—is ferry people across the universe and steal the people closest to me."

Ariel lays a hand on Anna's shoulder and tilts her head. "We need to learn about him regardless of his relationship to you," she says, her lips curling into a reassuring smile. "So why don't we start from the top and work our way down?"

Sucking in a deep breath and releasing it in a steady stream, Anna nods. "Okay," she agrees. "I guess we can start with the first question," she supposes, and meets Moana's gaze. "What are actualized gatekeepers?"

Moana rubs the back of her neck and looks to the ceiling, an uncertain frown marring her lips. "It basically boils down to a gatekeeper going Gold or Red," she says, "but it's possible to be Gray—for a time—if their mind can't choose between the two."

For a second, Anna only stares. "That . . . makes no sense," she says.

Moana nods, more somber than before. "I wouldn't expect it to," she says. "In simple terms, Gold gatekeepers are isolationists, believing the universe was meant to run without interference. Red gatekeepers are insane beasts that wish to inflict pain and misery on everything they touch." Her smile slips. "And gray gatekeepers, like our father, are calculating and heartless, oftentimes forgetting basic moralities and the rights of sentient life forms."

Anna's heart sinks into her stomach, a stinking suspicion rising in her gut that she doesn't have the courage to voice.

"So," Anna chokes, "how many of these actualized gatekeepers are out there?"

Moana rubs her jaw, an uncomfortable slant to her shoulders. "One," she says. "While a necessity, actualized gatekeepers are liabilities rather than assets. So Father locked the other bloodlines, murdered the other actualized, and sought to create a bridge, of sorts, by creating a gatekeeper strong enough to do their duty but not strong enough to topple into one of the states."

"What duty is that?" Rapunzel asks, her gaze flicking to Ariel as the meta wraps an arm around Anna's waist.

Moana waves her hand. "It doesn't matter," she dismisses, "Anna's brain picked a state already, so in Father's eyes she's a failure."

 _Ouch_ , Anna thinks, and winces.

Ariel blinks. "She has?" she asks, and looks Anna's way. "She isn't acting inhumane or hiding away like you said would happen, though."

Moana rubs her mouth. "That's the weird thing," she says. "Normally a state isn't chosen without a gatekeeper pushing past their natural ability limiter and keeping the extra powers active for too long." Her eyebrows furrow. "Anna's case is odd because her brain choose and converted without a power base capable of sustaining it. This means her Red personality can come out with or without being actualized and, if she's  _not_  actualized, she has the means to reject the mindset, something I never even knew was possible." She shrugs. "Maybe it's a human thing?"

Anna bobs her head in a slow nod. "So I'm a disappointment and an abomination, got it," she says, the words stinging like acid in her throat. "I guess that begs the question, then: why hasn't Alpha Alpha torn out my throat? It's not like my exploits as Red were subtle."

Moana cringes. "His . . . failure children, as he calls them, can still be of use to him under certain circumstances," she says. "There's no escaping him, I'm afraid, and if you try, the people in your life will suffer for it."

Something in Anna's stomach curdles. "Wait," she croaks, "does that mean— back then— did Alpha Alpha initiate the first Incident because I had eluded him?"

"What? No," Moana says, her lips curling into a surprised smile. "You had no idea who he was back then and had no means to avoid him." Her smile fades. "I'm not saying he wasn't involved, though, because when it concerns his children—his  _experiments_ —he doesn't leave much to chance."

Anna narrows her eyes. "Lovely," she drones, and pinches the bridge of her nose. "How involved has he been in my life?"

Moana winces. "I can't get into that, not without consequences," she says.

"How many other Annas are out there, then?" Ariel chirps.

Rapunzel facepalms herself.

Anna gives Ariel a look. "You mean siblings?" she asks.

Ariel shrugs. "If they're all as nice as you two then they're basically all Annas," she says.

"Let's pray they're not," Anna murmurs, not bothering to hide her distaste.

Moana smiles and says, "Right now it's just Anna and me."

"Wait," Anna says, "how does that work?"

"Well," Moana says, clicking her tongue, "father named himself 'one one'—otherwise translating to you as Alpha Alpha—and he named his children in accordance thereafter. You, Beta Rho—translating to 'two seventeen'—are the latest addition. The original numbering system was based off the ancient Elaenon alphabet, which had twenty seven letters, meaning he has had forty-three children throughout the millennia."

"No, I mean," Anna says, "how can there only be us? What happened to the others?"

Moana raises an eyebrow. "They're dead," she states.

"Wait, what?" Rapunzel asks.

Moana purses her lips. "Father had children all over the universe throughout the years," she explains. "He realized pretty early on that his children having half alien genetics stunted their magical abilities, but he was adamant about finding a 'compatible species' that would ultimately be a better fit than simply having a pure gatekeeper."

"Athena fucking preserve me," Anna mutters. Louder, she asks, "Has he found a species like this?"

"Not as far as I'm aware," Moana replies.

Anna massages the bridge of her nose, her head throbbing. "This is making my brain hurt," she hisses.

Ariel leans over and kisses Anna's temple. "Tis kay," she murmurs into Anna's hairline, "we'll sort it out eventually."

Moana's eyes flick above Anna's door to Arson's symbol and huffs a sigh through her nose. "I'm pushing my luck staying here," she says, and turns her attention back to Anna. "All I really want to say before I leave," she adds, stepping forward and fishing around in her pocket, "is that the world doesn't need Arson." She pulls out her hand and offers a small metal pendant of the gold and crimson gate Anna saw earlier. "It needs Beta Rho."

Anna's eyebrows furrow as she takes the metal offering. "I don't understand," she murmurs, examining the battered symbol in her hands, looking as if it survived hell itself. "Am I not Beta Rho already?"

The corners of Moana's eyes pinch. "You were Arson before you became  _Arson_ ," she says, and Anna flinches at the reminder. "Do you think the Arson you were before the first Incident could effectively deal with the threats you've dealt with as a villain?" Moana waits for an answer and, when none is forthcoming, and she nods as if she expected as much. "Of course she couldn't," she says, "so tell me, what make you think you're any more prepared for what's coming?"

Anna's muscles jump in surprise, her eyes widening. "Wait, what's coming? Do you know?" she asks.

Moana sighs and shakes her head. "All I'm saying is that, when the time comes," she says, avoiding the question, "you need to stop acting like a human and start behaving like a gatekeeper." Her lips twitch into a forced smile. "It won't be easy, and I can only pray you won't hate me once all is said and done because the next time we meet, I'll need you to save me."

"Save you from what—" Anna cuts herself off, staring as Moana disappears into thin air. "Teleportation," she airs, and rubs the back of her neck, "I should have guessed."

The corner of Rapunzel's eyes pinch in concentration, and she asks, "Okay, so wait, what the hell just happened?"

"I don't know," Anna replies, and stares at the worn pendant in her hand. A tired chuckle tumbles past her lips. "And here I thought my life had already capped out on how complicated it could get."

Rapunzel raises an eyebrow. "You say that," she says, "but you've yet to tell the others who you are or deal with our visitors from Berk."

"Rho," Ariel says, rolling the name off her tongue. She makes a face and mumbles, "Beta Rho." She shakes her head. "It doesn't have the same ring to it as Arson, does it?"

Anna rolls her eyes. "Probably because it doesn't have the same history, which is a damn good thing," she says, detaching herself from Ariel and walking to the elevator. "That doesn't mean I want to become whatever Alpha Alpha wants, though."

Right before Anna reaches the elevator, the floor's alarm lights blare red and an emergency lockout door slams shut, separating Anna from the others.

"Calhoun!" Anna shouts, split between freeing her fellow elites and determining the source of the disturbance. An inner base lockdown is a severe measure undertaken under rare circumstances, and for it to happen in the old elite living quarters of all places, Anna doesn't trust she'll be strong enough to deal with whatever's coming alone. "What the hell is going on?"

A hand grabs the back of Anna's head and smashes her face into the wall. She cries out as her nose crushes against the metal barrier and her skull cracks. Her breathing comes out in ragged gasps and her knees threaten to buckle, but she holds strong regardless. When did the air become so heavy?

"I hadn't planned on doing this so soon," a dark, chilling voice says, reverberating throughout the room. He chuckles, the sound setting off every one of Anna's alarm bells. "But now that you know what you are and you have the freedom to manipulate your bloodline seal, it would be unacceptable to have you running around unchecked."

An armoured fist rams into Anna's back and she chokes out a silent scream.

"Don't worry," the man says, in a tone that begs the exact opposite, "I'll be quick."

Anna struggles, trying to dislodge the man as blood runs over her lips, into her mouth, and down her chin, even as the man's fingers press harder into her skull with a strength just shy of being able to kill her.

"Try to behave," the man murmurs, over the hiss of black mist – an ability Hades used to have, much to Anna's alarm.

Pain flares throughout Anna's head, and she croaks out a wet whimper. Her knees threaten to collapse out from underneath of her once more so she locks them, unwilling to admit defeat.

"There," the man rumbles, and throws Anna to the floor like a piece of trash. "And take this," he says, followed by a  _thump!_  "I have no need of it anymore."

Just like that, the air pressure returns to normal and Anna can breathe again. She jumps up to unsteady feet, swaying back and forth with her fists raised.

Anna looks around, her vision spotted with little white dots, but she sees nothing besides the body on the floor. She frowns and does a double take.

What she sees makes her pale.

"Calhoun!" Anna roars, blood spraying from her mouth as she turns and pounds on the emergency barrier. "Open this door!  _Open this door!_ "

Calhoun doesn't answer, and suddenly Anna wonders if she can hear her at all.

"No," Anna mutters, paling further and turning back around. " _No_ ," she utters, horror gripping her chest and she tilts her head to the nearest camera. "Computer, open the door!" Nothing happens. " _Open the damn door!_ " she bellows. Again, no response.

"Shit," Anna hisses, and grabs at her hair. "Shit, shit, shit,  _shit!_ " She sucks in a couple quick breaths, trying to center herself and failing. "How far away are the cryo pods?" she mutters to herself, running over to the elevator and mashing the button to summon it. When nothing happens Anna roars to the heavens and turns back around. Tears prick her eyes when she catches sight of the body—sickly and pale but alive, for now—and she grits her teeth.

"I won't be too late this time," Anna hisses, flames licking her arms. "I won't let you down this time, Calhoun, I  _won't_."


	24. Back to the Old Ways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N** : Thanks again to Waela (FFnet), Those-Who Walk-Alone (FFnet), Elsannity (FFnet), and my newest editor, [Justherefortheride ](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/6053227/Justherefortheride)(FFnet) for betaing my work.
> 
> I collect editors. Fear me.
> 
> * * *

Eight Years Ago

Esmeralda is sure these tests aren't necessary. Her father may be a skilled scientist, but that doesn't make him any less of a worrying parent.

"Your brainwaves appear to be stable," Mellish, Esmeralda's father, says, but it's more to himself than to his daughter.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Esmeralda looks around her. White walls and sterile equipment in locked glass cabinets is all that greets her.

 _The layout changes, but the basics stay the same_ , the teenager thinks, huffing a soft sigh. She and her father have moved a half dozen times that she can remember due to new projects requesting Mellish's expertise. Every year he would bring his daughter to whatever facility he worked at to run tests to make sure her meta abilities aren't destabilizing her mind or body.

Esmeralda tilts her head back and stares at the ceiling—the plain, boring ceiling—wondering for the thousandth time why coming here was more important than dance class – the only 'sport' her father deemed safe for her to enroll in. Despite her annoyance, Esmeralda is inclined to agree; her super strength gives her an unfair advantage, and comes at a high risk to others if her control were to ever slip.

"How is your French coming along?" Mellish asks, tapping away at some scientific equipment Esmeralda can't be bothered to identify.

"Poorly," Esmeralda admits. Her only saving grace upon moving to France was having a basic knowledge of Latin—thanks to her father's foresight when she was a child—and knowing Italian, thanks to her last few years in Italy. "But most people can decipher what I'm trying to say when I mess up, or switch to a language I know better if they're bilingual." She frowns, wanting to add how she has a habit of mixing languages when she speaks without realizing it, but not wanting to worry her father. While she knows it's because her mind has trouble keeping up with the different languages, Mellish will assume it's a detrimental effect of her telepathy.

Mellish hums. "It'll come in time, I'm sure," he says, and flashes his daughter an endearing grin. "We've only been here a month."

Esmeralda smiles. "Two months," she corrects.

Mellish blinks, an owlish expression freezing his features for a moment before he giggles, soft and sheepish. "That would make more sense," he admits, and Esmeralda laughs.

"You know, I've been meaning to ask," Esmeralda says, laying on the examination table she's been sitting on for the past half an hour. "Do you like it here? The work, I mean."

Mellish shrugs and rubs the back of his neck. "The work is fine," he says, walking to a computer and sitting down. "It's a bit . . . strange, but it isn't bad." His eyes light up. "The food is  _great_  though," he gushes, turning away from the data to look at his daughter. "Have you tried their specialty chocolate?"

"Have you tried their sandwiches, or their wine?" Esmeralda counters, propping herself up on her elbows. "I swear, the restaurants here are going to make me a sumo wrestler."

"I believe you suspected the same thing when we moved to Italy, and you're still as skinny as a rake," Mellish counters, then narrows his eyes. "And what is this about wine?"

"First I seem to recall gaining ten pounds, and sec—"

"In muscle."

"—ond, the legal age to drink wine and beer is sixteen here," Esmeralda says, and smirks. "And I meant I gained ten pounds on top of muscle."

Mellish chuckles. "If you had, I didn't notice," he says, then pauses, the kind of fake pause Esmeralda knows to brace herself for. "Unless that's the reason the third button of your shirts kept popping off."

"Oh fuck off," Esmeralda laughs, throwing the lab provided pillow at her father.

Giggling like a mischievous child, Mellish blocks the pillow with his arm and tosses it back. "But seriously," he says, when he sobers up, "try to stay away from alcohol, or at least temper how much you drink." He waves his hands at nothing, trying to express with gestures what his words cannot. After a moment he sighs and lowers his hands to his lap. "Just . . . be careful," he says, his eyes shimmering with concern. "Drinking can make you do stupid things, and with your powers involved, well, you might not like the result."

Esmeralda hesitates. Most parents would be more restrictive, controlling. They'd outright bar their children from whatever they deemed undesirable. Mellish isn't like that. He never bans her from anything, preferring to tell her the truth and his preference before laying the choice—and its consequences—in her hands.

"I'll be careful," Esmeralda agrees.

A wide, relieved smile spreads over Mellish's lips. "Thank you," he says. He glances back at the data on the computer, scanning a few things, before nodding to himself and standing up. "None of the tests found anything abnormal," he says, chuckling. "I would apologize for wasting your time, but we both know we're going to go through the same thing next year regardless."

Esmeralda waves a dismissive hand and pushes from the table. "It's fine," she says. "It's a guaranteed slot of time that I get to hang out with you, even if it's boring."

Mellish raises an eyebrow. "So," he says, "what you're saying is that I should do these tests more often?"

Esmeralda barks a surprised laugh. "Hell no," she says, with a smile. "Just find a way to hang out with me a little more, is all."

"Shouldn't you be happy I'm not around all that much?" Mellish asks. "Aren't all teenagers like, 'oh my, I have the place to myself, I should throw a party and have sex on the couch and vomit in the sink.'"

"Your impersonation of me is terrible," Esmeralda says, even if she finds herself chuckling, "and you're watching too much TV. Not all teenagers are like what the media portrays them as."

Mellish scratches his stubble. "Probably," he allows, and winces. "Between work hours and constant moving, I think second hand experience is the most I have on the matter."

"You have me," Esmeralda reminds, even if her case is different than most.

"You've always been a good kid though," Mellish says. "Aside from the time you almost broke my nose when you were a toddler, I haven't had all that much difficulty with you."

Esmeralda smirks. "Should I take that as a challenge?" she asks. "I'm sure I could be a pain in your ass if I tried."

Mellish smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. "I'm sure you could if you wanted to," he says, and starts towards the door. "Granted," he chuckles, opening the door and holding it open for his daughter, "I would prefer it if you didn't."

With a thoughtful hum, Esmeralda follows her father. "It would be a lot of work for little reward," she says, "so I guess I w—"

A roar reverberates down the hall and shakes the floor under Esmeralda's feet. She starts and turns to her father with wide eyes. "What was  _that?_ " she exclaims, her limbs twitching with the suppressed flight or fight urge.

Mellish's expression hardens and he glances the way the sound came. "That would be the Beast Project," he says. The muscles in his jaw jump in anxious twitches. "I'm afraid I'm not allowed to go into detail about it."

Esmeralda frowns. "Is that the project you're working on?" she asks, though she's not quite sure she wants to know the answer.

Mellish smiles, but it looks haggard. "I can't tell you that, either," he says, a soft apology shining in his eyes.

"That's fine," Esmeralda replies, used to this type of secrecy by now. She shoves her hands in her pockets to hide their shaking. "It's safe to get out of here, right? Mentally?"

That appears to ease Mellish's concern, and his smile softens. "It doesn't have any telepathic abilities, so you're safe," he says, and starts leading her through the halls and security checks. "The only person you may have to check your powers for is my boss," he adds, after a couple minutes in silence, as if he were debating bringing it up at all. "It gets . . . hard to breathe around him. It's like the vacuum in the air after a lightning strike."

Goosebumps prick Esmeralda's flesh and she rolls her shoulders to suppress a shiver. "Is he a meta?" she asks.

"He's never done anything to prove he is," Mellish says, "but I think there's a pretty good possibility. That"—he adds, with slight hesitation—"or the sensation is because of whatever his species is."

"An alien, eh?" Esmeralda murmurs. While not uncommon to find aliens on Earth, it isn't all that common to find them out in the open, let alone in positions of power. "What does he look like?"

Mellish shakes his head, his eyebrows knitting in unease. "For the most part he looks human," he says, "but his eyes—" he sucks in a sharp breath, cutting himself off. "Let's just say no human has eyes like his."

Esmeralda frowns, a nervous tremor shivering down her spine. "Dad," she says, barely above a whisper, "do you think we should move?" It's a clear question with a clear implication:  _is it safe here?_

Mellish forces a strained smile. "I don't know yet, baby girl," he replies.

They walk the rest of the way to the entryway in silence, besides the odd 'thank you' to the guards on station at security checkpoints. In the main lobby Mellish pats his daughter's shoulder and grins, although it looks strained.

"I'll probably be home late tonight," Mellish says.

Esmeralda nods, not expecting any different. "Can I have some more money, then?" she asks. "I need to make a grocery run soon."

Regret flashes in Mellish's eyes, but he covers it with a smile. "Sure," he says, but his cheery tone can't disguise his true feelings.

Esmeralda places her hand over her father's when he takes out his wallet, and waits until their eyes meet before saying, "It's okay, dad. I don't mind taking care of myself."

Mellish's expression falls and tears mist his eyes. "I know," he whispers, ducking his head to count the money in his wallet, "but you shouldn't have to."

"Whether I should or shouldn't isn't really something you can debate without throwing away your career," Esmeralda refutes with a shrug. "I'm not saying it's not annoying, or that I don't get mad at you for not being around more often, but I understand. Besides, you always make sure I'm healthy and have everything I need, which is more than mom ever did."

Mellish frowns. "She was a spiteful old hag, wasn't she?" he mumbles.

"To put it mildly," Emeralda mutters with a wince she can't quite suppress. "I never got what you saw in her."

Handing over a small stack of bills, Mellish chuckles. "She wasn't so bad when I first met her," he says. "After she got pregnant . . . well, life has a way of changing people."

Esmeralda accepts the money. "Thanks," she clips, and puts it in her pocket. "I'll text you when I'm home."

Getting the hint, Mellish smiles and nods. "Alright," he says. "Stay safe."

Esmeralda opens her mouth to respond but, before she can, her father stiffens, his wide eyes looking at something behind her. Maybe it's the expression on Mellish's face, but all of a sudden Esmeralda finds it hard to breathe.

"Mr. Landalis, sir," Mellish greets, a stiff smile spreading over his lips. "It's good to see you again."

"There's no need to lie, Allegro," a man—Landalis?—says, his voice an ominous musical tremor that sets Esmeralda's nerves on edge. "Who is this?"

Mellish clears his throat. "This is my daughter, sir," he replies, an uncomfortable slant to his shoulders. He gestures to his daughter. "This is Esmeralda Allegro, sir, and Es," he adds, gesturing behind her, "this is my boss, Aesgrad Landalis."

Esmeralda doesn't want to turn around, she really,  _really_  doesn't, but her curiosity wins and she spins on her heel. "Hello," she says, but her hand freezes halfway raised in what was going to be an offered handshake.

Esmeralda glances upward at the man; Aesgrad is a full foot taller than she is, and the sunglasses masking his eyes, coupled with his black suit and gray tie, complete his intimidating impression. His hair is short, dark, and auburn. She sees the intricate gray tattoos from his neck down and two blue tattoos on his face – one following the curve of his jaw, the other going straight down the center of his face.

Aesgrad smiles, but the motion reminds Esmeralda more of a practiced facade rather than an actual sentiment. "Hello," he responds. He pushes his sunglasses into his hair. "What does this facility have to thank for your presence?"

Esmeralda's heart catches in her throat and she stares, like a deer caught in headlights. "I— uh, food, um, money? Dad?" she stutters, her attention captured by eyes promising to swallow her whole.

Aesgrad raises an eyebrow, the overhead lights glinting off his bright teal eyes, along with the ring of gold around his pupils and the ring of fiery crimson outlining his irises. "I see falsehoods are a family trait," he says, and the judgment in his tone makes Esmeralda bristle.

"I'm not lying," Esmeralda spits.

"No, you're not," Aesgrad agrees, "but you're not telling the truth, either." A glint sparks in his eyes, and it's enough to kill Esmeralda's retort in her throat. He smiles, empty and cold. "I suppose it doesn't matter," he dismisses, pushing his sunglasses back over his eyes. "Don't take much more of company time, Mr. Allegro," he says, turning to Mellish, "or I may be forced to do something"—he chuckles—" _drastic_."

Mellish bows his head. "Yes, sir," he stammers. "I'll be with you shortly."

Aesgrad steps forward and lays a hand on Mellish's shoulder, his lips curling into a predatory smile. "I'm sure your daughter is capable of seeing herself out," he assures, and gestures to the elevators. "Why don't you come with me and show me your progress."

Mellish hesitates, his eyes looking anywhere but the man in front of him. "All my research is available on your master hard drive by default, Mr. Landalis," he says. "Do you . . ."—he frowns—"do you need me to explain it to you?"

"Oh no," Aesgrad laughs, but it's chilling. "I understand everything you've already done thus far, but I'm more interested in where you plan to go. The future is a fickle thing, and I need to ensure it happens as planned." He leans forward until his nose is mere centimeters away from Mellish's. "You understand that, right?"

"I—" Mellish cuts himself off to catch Esmeralda's gaze, his eyes flashing with apology. His shoulders slump when Esmeralda nods that she understands. "Yes, sir."

Aesgrad pats Mellish's shoulder and drops his arm. "Good man," he says, then glances to Esmeralda. "I understand that family is important," he adds, and turns back to Mellish. "I won't punish you for making sure your daughter grows up big, strong, and independent. Capable offspring ensure our future, after all." He grins, all teeth and no mirth. "Ignorance and self entitlement invites only death."

"Okay," Esmeralda says with a frown, needing to  _get out_  before the pressure in the air forces her to her knees. She turns to her dad and shoves her thumb towards the door. "I'm going home."

Mellish stiffens, his eyes going wide. "Es, you just . . ." he chokes, his gaze flashing to Aesgrad, his fear so prominent Esmeralda can't will herself to walk away.

Aesgrad hums. "You lose control of your powers very quickly," he says, tapping his forehead in a pointed gesture.

Esmeralda pales. Did she send her thoughts out when she spoke?

"You best get a handle on that," Aesgrad says and starts towards the elevator. "You're of no use to anyone if you don't have a firm handle on your abilities."

Esmeralda and Mellish stand stock still, eyes locked together as if trying to mutually determine if they're off the hook or not.

"Allegro," Aesgrad projects, turning from his spot in front of the elevator. "Let's go," he says with a smile, but it's devoid of comfort and underscored with a threat. "It's time to work."

Mellish walks to his daughter and kisses her on the forehead. "I'll try to be home before you go to bed," he says, before jogging after his boss.

Esmeralda stares after her father with a disturbed frown. "I doubt it," she whispers, and leaves the building as fast as she can without outright sprinting.

It isn't until she's half a block away from her father's workplace that she realizes that she can breathe again, and that her telepathy—that she hadn't noticed had acted up—is settling back down. Slowing to a stop, Esmeralda touches her temple and turns back around. Foreign thoughts churn in her head, thoughts she must have grabbed from Mellish and Aesgrad when she lost control. When Esmeralda tries to figure out what her brain picked up, however, the thoughts blend and merge, becoming indistinguishable from each other.

With a deepening frown Esmeralda continues on her way, her hands clenching into fists and relaxing, on repeat.

By the time Esmeralda gets home she makes a decision and opens her laptop, looking up the prices of last minute flights.

Regardless of what it might mean for their lives, Esmeralda knows that she and Mellish have to get out of France.

* * *

Present Day

Esmeralda takes a swig of alcohol. She hasn't been sober in days, ever since she arrived back at base and Elsa told her what triggered the second Incident.

Esmeralda's hand trembles, and she tightens her grip around the neck of her bottle. She had cut off her heavier drinking the day before in preparation for the operation to capture Sandman, but she didn't have the strength to cut it out entirely.

Leaning forward in her seat and pinching the bridge of her nose, Esmeralda forces herself to breathe and focus on the task at hand.

Sandman, tied to a chair across the room, raises an eyebrow and shares a glance with one of Esmeralda's teammates. Neither meta says anything, but Esmeralda can sense concern in their outer thoughts. She tries not to think about it.

"We have a couple of questions for you," Mulan says, lurking in the shadows at the edge of the dank room, in the remnants of an abandoned office building.

Mulan, Jane, and Belle had succeeded in tracking down Sandman two days after Esmeralda's return, and only paused the capture operation to allow the drunkard to regain some of her wits. The capture itself had little to do with Esmeralda, with her only using her powers to protect the minds of her teammates while the heavy hitters subdued the dream meta. Belle, still at base, did little more than listen in. Esmeralda still thinks the intelligence meta helped more than she did.

"That much is obvious," Sandman replies, an intrigued smile playing over her lips.

Jane chuckles. She sounds tired. Even her armour—an advanced take on ancient Spartan armour, coloured gold with silver highlights and a white-plumed helm—looks worse for wear, as if she's been trudging through grime and foliage without reprieve for weeks. "There have been disappearances lately," she says. "We were hoping you would be able to help us figure out a couple details regarding them."

Sandman's eyes slide from Jane to Esmeralda and back again. "Considering the circumstances," she says, slow and deliberate, "I assume you think I have something to do with this?"

Jane shrugs. "That depends on you," she replies.

Sandman isn't a traditional villain, if she could be considered a villain at all. The League database categorizes her as a chaotic neutral—one who doesn't interfere with the affairs of heroes and villains—but the Protectors know how fast people can change.

Sandman bobs her head in a considerate nod. "Okay," she says, relaxing into her seat. "What do you want to know?"

Despite her desires, Esmeralda presses into Sandman's consciousness just far enough to detect truths and lies. She presses her lips into a thin line, the foreign emotions and thoughts feeling like oil against the inside of her skull. She swallows another mouthful of scotch. Or did she switch to whiskey? She can't remember.

"Dreams have the power to invoke feelings in people they wouldn't have otherwise experienced," Jane begins, "is that true?"

Sandman tilts her head, confusion shining in her eyes. "Of course they can," she says, and frowns. "Dreams are powered by imagination, and in imagination most anything could happen. Why?"

"Theoretically," Jane continues, ignoring the question, "would it be possible to alter someone's personality through this method?"

Esmeralda would sigh at Jane's lack of tact, but she admits she isn't eager to draw out this confrontation any longer than necessary. Maybe Jane feels the same.

Alarm flashes in Sandman's eyes, and Esmeralda knows her reaction is genuine.

"To a point," Sandman says, her eyebrows pinching in concern. "Once awoken, the effect of dreams will fade. One may feel disoriented for a time and act as they did in their fantasy, but sooner or later they will come back to themselves."

Esmeralda's fingers still on her bottle, or at least stop trembling as much as they had been. She raises her head to meet Sandman's gaze and when she does, even with her focus dulled by alcohol, they both know the lie has been caught.

Sandman winces, but takes the silent offer Esmeralda grants her and says, "That, at least, is how it normally works." That catches Jane and Mulan's attention, and their postures shift to something more alert. "I . . . am more powerful than most in the mind arts," Sandman continues, "and, while I've never tried it in full, I know that some personality traits can transfer from dreams to real life."

"I see," Jane says and tilts her head to the ceiling, taking a moment to think. "Is it possible to make a dream indistinguishable from real life?"

"While in the dream, sure," Sandman allows, "but once someone wakes up they're bound to feel the difference. Maybe not right away, depending on the level of immersion, but eventually they'll notice discrepancies in their memories, and from there they'll put two and two together."

Esmeralda feels Sandman's indecision and raises an eyebrow. "But you can't say for certain," she says, filling in the unsaid blanks, "because you've never tried it before."

Relief colours Sandman's features. "Never to the extent you're suggesting, no," she confirms.

Jane slumps, her fatigue catching up with her, and she leans against an old desk, careful not to put enough weight to break it. "Shit," she airs, but there's a touch of relief to her exasperated tone.

"Do you know anyone capable of doing so?" Mulan questions, accepting the setback in stride. "Please," she adds, as a measure of good faith, "a lot of people's lives depend on this."

Sandman hesitates, her eyes clouding in thought. "Aside from your friend there"—she says, nodding her chin to Esmeralda—"I can't say I do."

Esmeralda bristles at the implication, but she bites her tongue. She can't deny the claim, after all. While she's never been able to make feelings or personality changes permanent, she can't say she isn't capable of it. It's just a matter of not ever wanting to push far enough into someone else's mind to accomplish it.

Mulan rubs her mouth, considering her next question, when Sandman says, "Actually, now that I think of it . . ." she frowns, a debate warring just behind her eyes. "How much do you know about the Ambassadors?"

The three Leaguers stiften.

Jane straightens a little. "More than you're probably giving us credit for," she says, her tone harsh.

Sandman's eyes shift away, her shoulders curling in. Esmeralda doesn't need to use her powers to realize what's going through the other meta's head.

"It's okay," Esmeralda murmurs, forcing a strained smile when Sandman glances her way. "We know the Ambassadors weren't the saints they portrayed themselves as." Her fake smile drops and she rubs her temple. "We just wish we knew that when it mattered."

Sandman's eyes soften and she nods. "I didn't know until it was too late," she says. "At least, I wasn't aware of the extent of their deception until after the first Incident."

Esmeralda hums before either of her teammates can speak. "How did you figure it out?" she asks, sure to keep her voice an even, comforting tone.

Sandman winces. "I—" she clears her throat. "Every now and then I check in on people while they're sleeping. Sometimes to comfort them, sometimes to monitor them, and sometimes to search for weaknesses. Two of the people I checked in on were Scar and Arson."

For a full three seconds, nobody moves.

Then Jane stiffens, her armoured fingers twitching against the wooden table with soft  _click_ -ing sounds. "What did you find?" she asks, but it's clear she isn't sure she wants to hear the answer.

A dark shadow passes over Sandman's eyes. "Their minds were all but ripped to shreds," she says. "Scar lost most of his emotional connections, and Arson's kindness was nearly beaten to death by horrors no one should even know exist, let alone experience." She shakes her head, as if to dislodge the mental image. "The Ambassadors did it to them, using something called tainted hellfire smoke. Have you heard of it?"

"Yeah," Jane airs. "We've heard of it, and we know what it does."

Sandman nods. "Well, that's the only other thing I can think of capable of permanent personality alterations," she says.

Mulan frowns. "Are there any Ambassadors even on Earth?" she asks.

Over their earpieces, Belle—who's been listening in—says, " _Anna already explored that option, along with inbound ships and teleportation, and came up empty. Teleportation is still an option, because Calhoun can only pick up the technological variations, so if it was done by a meta we wouldn't know_."

Jane tilts her head and, through their vague mental connection, Esmeralda feels the former junior leaguer poking for attention. With a sigh and a swallow of scotch—whisky?—Esmeralda expands the connection between Jane, Mulan, and herself for telepathic communication.

 _Es_ , Jane thinks,  _do you remember what Anna said, after her failed direct access attempt?_

God, that feels like ages ago. Has it only been a couple weeks since then?  _Maybe_ , Esmeralda thinks back.  _I remember her and Calhoun fighting with each other more than anything_.

 _Right_ , Jane replies,  _and during that fight Calhoun said something like, 'I won't let you destroy your mind with hellfire smoke again.' Do you remember?_

That isn't the exact phrasing that comes to mind, but the intention of the words ring true.  _Oh_ , Esmeralda thinks, resting her chin on a fist.  _Anna was mad about Calhoun revealing that, I think_.

 _She was_ , Jane confirms,  _but that didn't stop her from correcting Calhoun, saying it was the tainted variety that changed her, not the regular_.

 _When was this?_  Mulan asks, an odd caution to her words.

This part Esmeralda remembers, and she chuckles aloud.  _It was right before Archer fucking stabbed her,_  she thinks.  _You're the one who walked in on the brawl, if I recall_.

For a long couple of seconds Mulan doesn't reply, her lips thinning into a narrow line.  _So this happened before we knew the circumstances surrounding Blizzard's parents_ , she thinks, which strikes Esmeralda as odd. Why would that matter?

 _Do you think Anna may have had something to do with this?_  Jane asks.

 _No_ , Mulan thinks, quick to dismiss the idea.  _I think she wouldn't have revealed the information at all if she knew this was going on. Think about it_ , she adds, before either of them can interrupt,  _with her history of ignoring her past, why would she let the League know she suffered through a more extreme case of what we're dealing with now? She smart enough to realize we would question her and, as a result, force her to face a past she's content keeping locked up_.

Jane's thoughts hum like white noise for a moment before she thinks,  _Fortune for us, I suppose. Now at least we'll have a firsthand reference_.

Mulan side-eyes Jane, her shoulders tightening with tension.  _She would have used her experience to help us whether she told us or not_ , she thinks.  _There's no need to treat her like a database needing to be cracked. She has helped us,_ is _helping us. That's all we need_.

Jane glares at Mulan, but otherwise doesn't dispute the woman's judgement.

Esmeralda stares at the bottle in her hand, watching as she swirls it in small circles to hide her trembling.  _If that's the case_ , she thinks, lifting the bottle and downing a couple mouthfuls,  _then Anna is the one who's going to have to finish this interrogation_. Mulan gives her a look, but Esmeralda only shrugs and thinks,  _Anna's gone through it so she knows the signs and symptoms. She's the only one who'd be able to figure out if Sandman is telling the full truth_.

Silence stretches between the leaguers. Sandman glances at each hero in turn, uncertainty dancing in her eyes.

Breaking the stalemate with a sigh, Mulan says, "Decryption, do we have any holding cells at base?"

Sandman's eyebrows shoot into her hairline.

" _I'm not sure_ ," Belle replies over the leaguers' in-ear comms. " _If you're looking for a place capable of containing Sandman we could put her in one of the training rooms. I'm not sure if it would contain her powers, though_."

Jane crosses her arms over her chest. "Ask Calhoun. She would know," she says.

For a long couple of seconds, Belle doesn't respond. Then, with a awkward clearing of her throat, she says, " _That . . . may be a problem. Calhoun hasn't been responding_."

The three leaguers snap to attention.

"What do you mean she hasn't been responding?" Mulan asks. "How long has this been going on?"

" _A couple of hours_ ," Belle answers. " _The base still runs fine, which gave General the impression that the old AI—the one from his and your time—had resumed command in Calhoun's absence. So far his theory has held true_."

"Computer is back in charge?" Mulan utters, and rubs her mouth in thought. "Where is our civilian elite?" she asks. "She's the only one at base capable of deactivating any of our systems."

Jane gives her companion a funny look, and says, "When have you ever known Calhoun to let anybody, elite or not, do what she didn't want them to?"

" _Wherever our ECA is, Computer is shielding her whereabouts_ ," Belle says. " _I need elite access to view the details_."

 _Which means Anna's either in a locked area of the base_ , Jane thinks,  _or a sensitive situation has occurred_. She glances to Mulan.  _Which do you think is more likely?_

 _Both_ , Mulan thinks. Aloud she says, "Prepare any room you deem fit for Sandman. Try to make it out of range of any room the leaguers frequent, or create a synthetic way of blocking her powers, if you can. We're heading back." She turns to Jane and nods her head to Sandman. "Get her. I'll bring the ship." In the next instant Mulan dissolves into the shadows she hides in.

Sandman hums. "So the League is taking prisoners now?" she asks.

"For now," Jane replies, adjusting her hard light rope around Sandman's arms without moving a muscle. "Stand," she demands, walking to the dream meta and leading her away.

Esmeralda pushes to her feet with a grunt and follows after. She's unsteady but she walks straight enough, and she still has enough of her wits to keep Sandman's powers locked up with her own. "Why do I always get the shitty jobs," she mutters, more to herself than anyone else. She doesn't want anyone to respond and, to her mercy, no one does. She doesn't need anyone reminding her that it isn't the jobs that are shitty, but her opinion of her own powers.

The ship is parked outside the building when they exit, and the three metas pile in. Esmeralda and Sandman stay in the cargo bay while Jane goes to the cockpit to check in with Mulan.

Esmeralda stares after Jane long after she exits her field of vision, if only to avoid looking at Sandman. "Fuck," she airs, and brings the bottle to her mouth. Nothing comes out. She pulls it back and stares at the glass with blurry vision. "Shit," she sighs, and tosses the bottle onto the floor.

Sandman stares at the display, but her expression remains neutral.

Waving at the bench seat closest to Sandman, Esmeralda says, "Sit." She flops into her own bench seat with a groan. She rubs her eyes with the palms of her hands. She feels Sandman's intention to speak and, before the meta can say anything, says, "Please, I'm not in the mood for conversation." ' _Not when I'm using my powers_ ' remains unsaid.

The flight home is awkward and silent. Esmeralda's pretty sure she started crying at one point, but a swipe at her eyes told her the sensation was all in her head.

" _Dad!" Esmeralda screams, running through the broken hallway and debris. "_ Dad! _" she yells again, skidding to a stop at an intersection. She turns this way and that, trying to remember which way her father had taken the day before. Is his office even near the lab he had tested her in? Is it even on the same floor?_

_The building shakes at its foundations, followed by a terrible roar that chills Esmeralda to the bone._

_That doesn't make since. The beast has already left the building to terrorize the rest of France. Did it come back? Esmeralda pales. Is there more than one?_

" _Allegro," a cold voice says._

_Esmeralda whips around and finds herself face-to-face with Aesgrad. His eyes glimmer with hardened emotions Esmeralda can't even begin to fathom._

" _You shouldn't be here," Aesgrad says, but he doesn't sound surprised that she is._

" _Where's my dad?" Esmeralda asks, ignoring the unspoken accusation. "Mellish Allegro," she clarifies, when Aesgrad only stares at her._

" _I know who your father is, child," Aesgrad says, "but he is not as important in the grand scheme of things like you are. Leave here before it's too late."_

_Esmeralda growls, her muscles coiling with rage. "I'm not leaving here without him," she spits, "now tell me where he is or get out of my way."_

_A chilling smile curls Aesgrad's lips, one that a snake might give to a mouse before dinner. "He's in the pit," he answers, defying Esmeralda's expectations. He steps aside and gestures down the hallway behind him. "Take the stairs five flights down and follow the noise," he continues, then laughs and starts to walk away. "I can't promise he'll be the same man you remember, but I encourage you to try to make him see sense. I doubt the formula has completely eaten away his sense yet."_

_Esmeralda pales and bolts down the hallway, the haunting cackles of Aesgrad Landalis following her all the while_.

Esmeralda locks her powers back in place, realising what just happened, and wakes with a gasp. She glares at Sandman, but the other meta only flashes her an unapologetic smile.

Jane walks into the cargo bay, a hard light sword gripped in both hands. She looks at Esmeralda then Sandman, and then back again. "Is everything alright?" she asks. "You dropped our telepathic communication."

Esmeralda waves off the concern and laughs, even if she doesn't find any of this funny. "It's fine," she dismisses. "I drank a bit too much, I think."

Jane's eyes harden. "Did she make you fall asleep?" she asks.

Esmeralda presses her thumb against the bridge of her nose. There's no point lying. "Yeah," she sighs. "The crazy bitch knows who my father is, now."

"Was," Sandman corrects, with a sad smile. "He isn't the same anymore, is he?"

"I'm quite sure that's none of your concern," Esmeralda snaps.

Sandman raises an eyebrow. "You're one to talk about matters that are none of your concern," she says.

Esmeralda glares at the woman, feeling more sober than she has any right to be. "I don't use my powers to shift through people's heads like you," she growls.

"Not anymore," Sandman says, "but I suspect you used to." She nods to the empty bottle on the floor. "Isn't that the reason you drink?"

"Are we home yet?" Esmeralda clips, wanting nothing more with this conversation.

Jane nods, her shimmering blue sword dissolving into thin air. "Shadow is landing us now," she says. Her gaze dips to the floor and she kneels, picking up the empty liquor bottle and handing it over. "Try not to litter on the ship."

"Yeah, yeah," Esmeralda sighs, taking the bottle and resting it on her lap. She re-establishes the mental connection with her teammates and asks,  _Did Decryption inform everyone at base to suit up?_

 _They'd already be in uniform because of Axe_ , Jane replies, leaning against the walkway frame.

 _Oh, right_ , Esmeralda thinks, with a sheepish smile.

Jane twitches a smirk, only half seen through the slit in her helm. "Decryption," she says aloud, "have the Leaguers been informed of our passenger?"

"Prisoner, you mean?" Sandman murmurs.

" _They're aware_ ," Belle answers, " _and Blizzard is going to be waiting for you in the docking bay_."

Esmeralda winces, remembering what came of being greeted only days before. She raises her bottle out of reflex, but stops before it reaches her mouth. She looks at it, wondering why she has an empty bottle for all of two seconds before sighing and resting it on her leg.

Mulan squeezes past Jane and flashes a thumbs up. "The onboard computer took over landing procedures," she says. "We'll be good to go in—" The docking bay cargo door opens, and the ship's engines power down. She stares for a moment before chuckling at herself. "Right now. Let's go."

Esmeralda watches Mulan walk away before standing herself. She wonders how Mulan—and the other Leaguers involved in the second Incident—is handling the knowledge that it was, in essence, her fault. Half of her wonders if she'll ever muster up the courage to ask.

"It's good to see you back," Elsa greets, her ice armoured hand extended for Mulan to shake. "This place isn't the same without you around."

Mulan laughs. "You're only saying that because I help you keep Merida in line," she teases.

"You help keep everyone in line," Elsa chuckles. She looks towards the ship. She eyes Esmeralda's empty bottle but doesn't comment on it. Instead she turns to Jane, who guides Sandman forward with a firm hand. "Did you have to get rough with her?" Elsa asks.

Jane shrugs. "Not really," she says. "After Allure nulled her sleeping powers she was pretty easy to subdue. She ain't so good in hand-to-hand combat, super strength or not."

"I would like to note that I've been cooperative regardless of my initial struggle," Sandman interjects, "and that I have no desire to make the Protectors my enemy."

Elsa hums. "If that's the case, you won't mind wearing this," she says, lifting an adjustable metal headband and a small neck clamp with four small inlaid needles.

Sandman frowns. "What is it?" she asks.

"It's an artifact from the old elites," Elsa replies. Mulan and Jane jolt as if they'd been shot. "It's used to block telepathy, along with any mental ability with jurisdiction outside of their own body."

Sandman purses her lips. "Will it hurt?" she asks.

"I didn't think to ask," Elsa admits. "I'm sure it will, a bit, but we can provide you with a healer or painkillers should it be too much to bear."

"I never knew we had something like that," Jane says, forcing her way through the initial shock. "How did Decryption find it?"

"She asked Computer if we had something to block sleep telepathy," Elsa says, "and they unlocked it from elite access for us. Apparently our predicament falls in a level negation clause."

Jane barks a surprised laugh. "I like this Computer already!" she says. "We should give them a proper name."

"As useful as Computer is," Mulan says, "I'm not so willing to forgo Calhoun." She frowns and rubs the back of her neck. "Going silent isn't like her."

"What has Calhoun ever done for us besides barring us from information and equipment we have the right to access?" Jane snaps.

Mulan glares. "A lot more than you're giving her credit for," she clips.

"Like what?" Jane snaps. "Give me one example of when she helped us when it would have counted. 'Cause on my list, her withholding cost millions of people their lives."

Esmeralda cringes at the reminder, and Mulan clenches her teeth.

"It's more complicated than that," Mulan grits.

"Not now," Elsa says, her words cracking like a whip. She holds out the items to Jane. "Put these on her and take her to wherever Decryption dictates."

Jane huffs, but takes the suppression artifacts regardless.

Sandman looks from hero to hero, a frown marring her lips. She knows better than to comment.

"You two," Elsa says, pointing at Esmeralda and Mulan, "follow me." She turns heel and walks away. The two Leaguers follow their leader without question, at least until they get out of earshot.

"So what, exactly, is the situation here?" Mulan asks, the old leader in her stepping to the forefront. Esmeralda gets the impression she shouldn't be privy to this conversation, regardless of having been invited.

Elsa sighs, heavy and frustrated. "Calhoun's been down for a couple hours," she says, "and we can't find Anna, Poseidon, or Crossroads, and it—"

"Crossroads?" Mulan questions.

"Oh," Elsa airs, "you were gone when that change happened, weren't you? Well, Golden Flower changed her name. Don't ask me why, because she hasn't explained." She forces a strained laugh. "Actually, if I'm honest, Anna and Poseidon have been monopolizing her time. I've only seen her in passing less than a dozen times the last couple days."

"What happened a couple days ago?" Mulan asks. "Last I recall Golden Fl— sorry, Crossroads, wanted nothing to do with Anna."

Elsa frowns, as if she'd forgotten herself, before her eyes light up with recollection. "Hercules attacked Anna and Anna freaked out. She summoned Athena's spear and put Herc out of commission. After that—"

"Wait," Mulan interrupts, "what do you mean she summoned the holy spear?"

Esmeralda glances from leader to former leader, trying to will her inebriated brain to keep up with the conversation.

Elsa shrugs. "Apparently she's an undeveloped heaven meta," she replies. "She got golden flakes in her eyes afterward after the summoning, which I think proved it, but they disappeared after she took Cross—"

"Anna can't be a heaven meta," Mulan cuts in once more, her body tense. "It's literally impossible."

"Funny," Elsa murmurs, "Anna said something similar to that herself." She gives Mulan a searching look. "Why would that be?"

Mulan twitches a strained smile. "It's . . . a long story," she deflects. She twirls her hand in a 'go on' motion. "Sorry for cutting you off. Where did Anna take Crossroads?"

Esmeralda glances at Mulan, getting the sense that she's hiding something important, but not having the stomach to use her powers to figure out what.

Elsa narrows her eyes, but doesn't press the subject. "She took Crossroads to, well, here," she says, gesturing to the docking bay behind them before they turn off into a hallway. "Anna had made a call beforehand and an empty ship deployed on cue, so I think she called in help to figure out what happened. I don't know who she called, and security footage—along with all other information—during that time regarding that meeting is locked under elite authorization."

"Is that when Crossroads changed her tone about Anna?" Mulan asks.

"Yeah," Elsa confirms. "It's also when I stopped seeing her so much."

"And now you can't find her at all?" Mulan questions.

Elsa nods. "Yes, but we have an idea," she says. "Decryption looked through security footage and found that our MIA trio went into the elite living quarters together."

Esmeralda scratches the back of her neck with uncoordinated fingers, fighting between her curiosity and her urge not to interfere with the League's two commanders.

Mulan frowns. "Why are they there? I mean," she explains, "Anna is traumatized from her past. I can't see her going in there, let alone bringing two others along." Her eyebrows knit together. "What have Poseidon, Crossroads, and Anna been doing together to make her trust them?"

Elsa raises her hands in a helpless gesture. "As far as I'm aware they were training. They stopped for meals at odd hours of the day or night, but they haven't really been seen besides that."

Mulan rubs her jaw. "Okay," she says, slow and calculated, "has anything else happened?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Elsa says, stepping into a waiting elevator and pressing the button for the main floor. "Not long after Anna and the others entered the old elite living quarters, an emergency defense was activated." She side eyes Mulan. "We don't know why."

This, at least, is a problem Esmeralda doesn't need explained. The moment an emergency system activates, everyone regardless of clearance has the right to know the reason. Depending on severity, this right could be from as little as knowing the basic situation to all formalities being thrown out the window, which would give everyone access to everything relating to the event, including information and locations.

"I don't want to be the one to suggest it," Elsa continues, her fists clenching into uneasy fists, "but Anna has been adjusting our systems since she's got here. It's possible she's behind this, whatever  _this_  is."

"It's possible," Mulan allows, her eyes flicking aside in thought. "I don't know what she'd hope to gain from either reducing our access or disabling Calhoun, though. If anything it would be a detriment to her." She sighs. "I suggest we talk to her before jumping to conclusions."

On the overhead speakers of the elevator, Computer says, "Blizzard, your presence is required in the med bay."

Elsa's eyes harden. "What's going on?"

"A fight has broken between Axe, Stormfly, Hercules, and the elites."

Elsa's leg half buckles from shock and she staggers back. Mulan and Esmeralda fare no better.

"The elites?" Elsa questions, a low tremor to her voice. Her head snaps to Mulan. "Go," she orders, using her powers to block out some of the lights.

Mulan nods and ducks into a shadow. A second later she's gone.

Elsa waves her ice and snow away, and turns to Esmeralda. "I hope you're still drunk enough to get a couple heads in gear," she says, only half joking.

Esmeralda flashes her leader a shaky smile. "I don't know how effective I'll be against elites," she says, "but I'll try." She tapers her strength before she shatters the bottle neck in her grip, and asks, "But, uh, who, exactly, are these elites?"

Elsa shakes her head. "I wish I knew," she murmurs. "The only elite I know of is Arson, and while it's possible she was able to infiltrate the base, that doesn't account for the plural usage." She tilts her head upwards. "Computer, connect me to Decryption."

"Arson is also the only person still alive who can upgrade people, right?" Esmeralda questions. "It's possible she was able to promote villains, especially with Calhoun down."

Elsa worried eyes connect with Esmeralda's gaze. "Let's pray you're wrong," she says.

" _What do you need?_ " Belle asks through the speakers.

"There's a fight involving elites in the med bay," Elsa says, getting straight to the point. "Who are they?"

" _I know, I'm the one who called your presence_ ," Belle answers. " _As for_ who _they are, that's . . . well, it may be best for you to see for yourself_."

Elsa stiffens. "Is Arson among them?" she asks.

Belle laughs for a reason Esmeralda can't fathom. " _The only redheads present there are an underdressed fish and a puking technician_ ," she replies.

The elevator dings.

"Thanks," Elsa says, and bolts. Esmeralda runs after her, only just managing to coordinate her feet to not trip over each other. "Allure," Elsa barks, "can you reach ahead and give me an idea what we're running into?"

"Aye aye, boss!" Esmeralda agrees, and expands her mental awareness. It acts as a background process so she can use the majority of her mental strength not to fall flat on her face, but it's enough. "Axe is fucking pissed," she calls. "Stormfly is conflicted between hormonal instinct and attack orders. Hercules is concerned for her well being. Anna's— fuck, she ain't good; it feels like her brain and body were attacked by a blender. Crossroads is engaged in hand-to-hand—"

Megara slams into the wall in front of them, and the duo skid to a stop.

Before Elsa or Esmeralda can speak, Megara is leaping out of the way of a spray of bullets.

A chilling laugh echoes down the perpendicular hall, one Esmeralda recognizes.

"Whatever you blame me for," Megara shouts, "I promise I can explain!"

The other person laughs again, loud and cold. "There's no need!" they say. "You should know better than anyone that it's fine to attack people if you assign them guilt."

Megara pales.

"Is that—" Esmeralda chokes, "is that Calhoun?"

A stranger rounds the corner and slams her knee into Megara's face with a sickening  _crack_. The woman dances back when Megara swings a fist in retaliation.

"Your recklessness hurt someone very dear to me," the woman says, an assault rifle with glowing yellow ports materializing into her hands. "And I'm afraid my time pent up has made me a tad vindictive." She aims her weapon at Megara's knee. "Now that I have my body back, I will  _never_  allow people who hurt my friends get away unpunished. Never again."

The stranger pulls the trigger.

Elsa protects Megara with a wall of ice. She steps around the barrier with her fists raised. "Identify yourself," she demands.

"Don't you recognize my soothing voice?" the woman drones, her lips twitching into an empty smile.

"Identify, yourself," Elsa grits.

The woman chuckles and lets her rifle dissipate into thin air. "My name is Colonel Calhoun Reeves, though you just know me as 'Calhoun'," she says.

Esmeralda chokes on her own spit, even though she had recognized Calhoun's voice from the start.

"This— how is this possible?" Elsa asks, careful not to drop her guard. "You're an AI."

Calhoun raises an eyebrow. "Vikke is an AI, I am not," she replies. "A long time ago the old elites sought to save my life, so they put me in cryo and, to ensure I kept my wits about me, they hooked my brain up to the base."

Esmeralda frowns. "Is that why you couldn't give the League access to important information?" she asks. Calhoun sends her a quizzical look, so Esmeralda explains, "Regular users get struck with hellfire smoke in restricted areas of the system."

Calhoun's expression smoothes. "Oh, I definitely had access to everything," she says. "I was upgraded to elite to ensure HFS wouldn't destroy my mind." She twitches a sardonic smile. "Sometimes I wish it would've—"

" _You_  are an elite?" Elsa exclaims, lowering her fists and taking an aggressive step forward. "Does that mean you had the authority to promote all of us to elite or  _remove elite access_  to  _anything_  in your system?"

Calhoun raises her arm as if to hold a shield, then frowns and looks down at herself. "Or not," she utters, and lets her arm drop back to her side. "In a sense I did," she answers, "but . . ."—she sighs—"it's complicated, Blizzard."

"What is complicated about giving the League what we needed to prevent  _millions_  of deaths?" Elsa shouts.

"Reaper made it complicated!" Calhoun bellows, her eyes flashing in challenge.

Elsa hesitates. "Reaper is dead," she says, but it doesn't sound like she believes herself.

Calhoun's lips twist into a sardonic smile. "If he was, Arson's file would have become accessible to all League members." Her smile falls into a heavy scowl. "You aren't aware of half the dealings in the meta world, so don't presume the decisions I've made were as simple as clicking a button. Every action has a consequence, and every consequence causes ripples. It was my job to keep those ripples as small as possible, and I did"—her eyes harden—"and I  _will_."

A dragon screech echoes down the hallway and Calhoun starts. She poises to run, her eyes flicking from Megara to a threat down the other hall. After a moment she growls and sprints away.

Elsa dashes after the meta, but Esmeralda doesn't follow. Instead she looks at Megara and watches as she nurses her broken nose. "How, exactly," she asks, "did you make Calhoun hate you enough to attack you the moment she was able to?"

Megara waves a flippant hand, blood spraying from her fingers. "A fluke conversation I had with Anna, I think," she says, a wet garble to her voice. She shoves a thumb over her shoulder. "You might want to help calm that dragon before Calhoun kills it and destroys our relationship with Berk."

Esmeralda frowns. "Calhoun should know better than that," she says, and waves a hand in the direction Calhoun ran. "She was just talking about consequences, after all."

A humourless chuckle tumbles out of Megara's lips. "If that reptile tries mounting Anna one more time, I don't think Calhoun will give a shit."

"Are you— fucking hell," Esmeralda swears, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Why is a dragon trying to mate with Anna?"

Megara sends Esmeralda a flat look. "You're asking me?" she deadpans, then sighs. "All I know is that Stormfly freaked the fuck out and bared her claws when she first caught whiff of Anna, but at some point started trying to get with her instead. I can't say I understand the transition. I was too busy trying to keep Calhoun from ripping my head off."

"This is why you don't fuck with disembodied voices," Esmeralda replies, and flashes Megara a shit eating grin. Megara gives her the middle finger. With a laugh, Esmeralda jogs in the direction Elsa had gone and follows the sound of battle.

What she sees when she gets to the scene makes Esmeralda slow to a stop, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Half the med bay is suspended in water, with Ariel—who only wears pants and a bra, for some reason—is floating in the middle of it, punching the daylights out of Axe.

Rapunzel stands in a protective hover over Anna, who is doubled over with her head held in her hands and her eyes squeezed shut. There's barf and blood on the floor in front of civilian elite, and the remnants of a needle puncture in her neck. Rapunzel, for her part, has bloodied knuckles, a split lip, claw wounds on her arms and torso, and a shallow cut on her thigh. Esmeralda half wonders why the healer isn't healing, but decides it isn't important at the moment.

Mulan exchanges blows with Kida, trying to stop her from attacking Calhoun.

Calhoun and Elsa fight Stormfly. Elsa freezes the dragon in place and Calhoun shoots the beast with a weapon Esmeralda has never seen before. It doesn't look like it causes any real damage, but it knocks Stormfly out cold.

The summoned water on the far end of the room disappears with a wave of Ariel's hand, and she lands on the floor with grace, while Axe collapses in a bloody heap. The marine meta eyes Kida, but besides pursing her lips she doesn't get involved. Esmeralda knows the meta is too susceptible to lightning to risk it.

The weapon in Calhoun's hands disappears, only to be replaced by an over-the-shoulder cannon. The barrel whirls, and the inside starts glowing an increasingly brighter blue. She turns it on Kida and, when the alien hesitates in her fight with Mulan, Calhoun's lips tighten into a thin line. "I don't want to hurt you, Zeus," she says. "Stand down."

Elsa steps in the line of fire with either hand held in a halting motion to Calhoun and Kida. "Why don't we all stand down," the winter hero suggests, her words slow and measured.

To the side, Anna's back arches and she hacks out bile and blood.

Rapunzel's eye's pinch and she kneels by the technician to rub soothing circles on her back. Still, she doesn't heal any wounds sustained by anyone in the room.

Ariel leaves Axe moaning in agony to join Rapunzel. She summons water to clean Anna of blood and vomit, and waves the water into nonexistence once she's done. Then she sits down and pulls Anna into her lap, murmuring soft words of encouragement even when Anna starts shaking.

Rapunzel sighs and sits beside Ariel, rubbing her eyes.

Esmeralda, for her part, tries to process the fact that the medical bay just got trashed in an impromptu battle royale.

With a clenched jaw, Calhoun glances between Kida and Anna. After a moment of debate, her weapon ceases to exist and she turns to Rapunzel. "How is she?"

"Going through nerve shock, I think," Rapunzel airs, resting her head against the deformed storage cabinet behind her. She blinks, long and slow, as if she's a heartbeat from falling asleep. "She's gone through this before with less physical health than she has now, so I think she'll be fine." She winces. "I'm afraid I can't help her at the moment."

Calhoun's eyes soften. "I'm sorry," she apologizes, though Esmeralda can't think of why one would be necessary.

Rapunzel waves away the concern. "Anna did what she did knowing what she would have to go through, even though she had no idea if I could help you or not," she says. "It was the least I could do to make sure she wouldn't suffer for nothing."

Calhoun hesitates, but nods nonetheless. She turns to Elsa and twitches a subdued smile. "I suppose I owe you something of an explanation," she says. She then raises an eyebrow at Kida. "I would say I owe you an explanation, as well, but I'm fairly certain you know the reason I was beating up your girlfriend."

"Yeah, I know the reason," Kida grits, "but I wasn't attacking you for that. At least not solely. I—" her voice cracks and she forces herself to take a deep breath. "I don't forgive you for the second Incident."

Esmeralda winces, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but here. She turns to leave, when a sigh makes her pause.

"I was unaware of the subconscious protective traits of HFS at that time," Calhoun says.

"But you didn't tell them about it at all," Kida accuses. She gestures to Mulan. "Don't you think she would have planned her offensive differently if you had?"

Esmeralda looks over her shoulder, her curiosity piqued.

Calhoun twitches an empty smile. "Arson came to me soon after the first Incident, begging me to help her control her mind," she explains. "I succeeded in making a suppressant and, since then, she has always sought it out before she could go Red. I had no reason to think she would use HF against the League, and she didn't, not even when Blizzard froze her arms." Her smile fades into a grim line. "I'm afraid that the result of that capture mission would have been the same whether I told them or not if their plan still revolved around Allure's mental control." She meets Kida's gaze, sorrow swirling in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Zeus."

Kida's jaw muscles jump and she grits her teeth, tears misting her eyes.

Calhoun looks up and meets Esmeralda's gaze, and the pity in them is enough to make the telepath sick.

"I'm sorry, Allure," Calhoun says. "If I had known, I would have tried convincing Shadow to use an alternate method."

Esmeralda locks her jaw and shakes her head. She shatters the bottle in her other hand and staggers backwards until her back connects with a wall. "I-I-I d-don't—" she bites her tongue to keep from talking and slides down the wall until her butt hits the ground. Or, at least, some of the debris littered across it.

"If it is any consolation to any of you, I mean to make amends for my secrecy," Calhoun says and, for the first time, Esmeralda realizes that all the leaguers save two who partook in the capture mission are present.

Elsa raises an eyebrow and gestures to the medical bay, half destroyed and littered with blood. "By attacking our people?" she asks.

"In our defense," Ariel pipes in, with more cheer than the situation dictates, "we were attacked first." She nods to the dragon. "Stormfly was  _not_  happy when she smelt us."

"The old elite living quarters still smells like the metas who once lived there," Calhoun says, as if that explains everything. To Esmeralda the words both ring true and entirely false, and she isn't sure how to process that.

Elsa bobs her head in a slow nod. "So," she says, "you all smelt like Arson." Her eyebrows furrow. "That doesn't explain why Stormfly kept doing— whatever she was doing. Courting?"

Calhoun laughs, but it's strained. "The old elite living quarters smelt like all the elites, including Black Dragon," she says. "It's possible that smell had pheromones attached to it that confused Stormfly's instincts."

That doesn't explain why Stormfly went after Anna specifically, but a soft snore draws the room's attention before Esmeralda can voice her thoughts. Instead she looks over and sees Rapunzel leaning on Ariel's shoulder, dead to the world.

Dread seeps into Esmeralda's stomach. "Uh, guys," she says, "those two are out of costume."

Ariel tilts her head, confused, but then recognition flares in her eyes and she lays a hand over Rapunzel's face.

Elsa rubs the back of her neck. "That doesn't do much good now," she says. "She can put it on from here on out in case Sandman gets out of confinement, but it won't help in regards to those two." She points to Axe and her dragon.

Ariel frowns and kisses the top of Rapunzel's head. In her lap, Anna releases a choked scream.

Kida nods to Anna. "What's wrong with her?" she asks.

"Nothing she can't handle," Calhoun deflects. "Now," she adds, before anyone can question, "I need to talk with you, Blizzard, about the League."

Elsa frowns. "How do you mean?" she asks.

"I am one of the old elites," Calhoun says. "I'm not up to full strength yet, and it appears I've lost half my abilities, but I am still stronger, better trained, and more knowledgeable than you are."

Mulan steps forward with a frown. "Are you proposing taking over as leader of the League?"

Esmeralda frowns. As useful as Calhoun was in the League network, none of the leaguers actually know all that much about her, or what she's like in person. Her taking the reins from Elsa for the sole reason of being an elite is not a good reason.

"Not right away," Calhoun answers. "I think my first order of business will be to assume leadership of the elites to tackle our organized villain problem. After that is taken care of we can decide as a team who should be our collective leader, and they will be promoted to elite, if they're not an elite already."

Kida narrows her eyes. "We don't have any elites, unless you mean you and Arson," she says, spitting the name.

"Arson is a part of the organized villain problem and will be dealt with appropriately," Calhoun assures. "As for not having any elites, that isn't true." She lays a hand on her chest. "You have me, for one." She smiles and gestures to Ariel and Rapunzel. "And we have those two."

Silence.

Esmeralda blinks, trying to process the idea of some of the heroes she's been working with now assuming the elite title. For so long 'elite' has been an obscure idea, one that used to exist amongst a group of metas she never knew. To have someone in their own ranks promoted—

"Wait," Mulan says. "Wait, wait,  _wait_. How are  _they_  elites? When did this happen? What was the criteria? What— how—  _why them?_ "

Calhoun hums. "Importance or time dedicated to the League were not factors in the decision," she says, "which is why you, General, Justice, or Blizzard weren't selected. In saying that . . ." she tilts her head. "Vikke, can you hear me?"

"Affirmative," the old AI says.

Mulan tilts her head. "So Computer  _does_  have a name?" she asks.

Calhoun shrugs. "I gave her a name and assigned her a gender while I was in the system so I could pretend I had company," she explains. "Vikke didn't seem to mind. Anyway, Vikke, can you please upgrade League members F zero one, codename Shadow, and F zero nine, codename Decryption, into elites? Show progress on screen."

A broken projected image appears on the only half decent wall, and on it shows Mulan and Belle's updating information. It reads:

_F-0-1, Shadow – convert – E-1-1, Shadow / F-0-1 Deactivated with E-1-1 Activation_

_F-0-9, Decryption – convert – E-1-2, Decryption / F-0-9 Deactivated with E-1-2 Activation_

Ringing buzzes in Esmeralda's ears as she stares at the information, understanding the words but, somehow, unable to comprehend what they mean.

Calhoun nods. "Thank you. Please show this information to Decryption." The screen disappears. She turns to Elsa. "I will be taking control of the elites for the time being," she says. "After the villains are dealt with— Shadow, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yup, definitely," Mulan chokes, but she's crying, and her lips are trembling.

Calhoun walks over to Mulan and rests her hands on her shoulders. "I can reverse the change, if you want me to," she says.

"Reverse?" Mulan asks, barking a wet laugh. "I've been waiting for this day for seven years!"

Calhoun grins and outstretches her arms in a silent offering. "Then I'm sorry it wasn't in the way or timeframe you imagined," she says, "but welcome to the elites."

The ringing in Esmeralda's ears grow louder. Part of her brain recognizes it's because of the amount of alcohol she's consumed, but the other half knows she's having trouble accepting that her friends are elites.  _Elites_.

Mulan surges forward and wraps Calhoun into a hug, sobbing and laughing all the while. "Thank you,  _thank you_ ," she weeps, before bursting into broken cackles. "I can finally make Hades proud."

"As heartwarming as this is," Kida says with an unsure frown, "I have questions regarding your plan on dealing with the villains. We all know Arson"—she spits the name with a harsh acidity—"won't allow you to disrupt her network."

Calhoun quirks her head, her expression twisting at the absurd question. "I'm going to deal with them how the old elites used to," she answers.

Esmeralda's head snaps up. "Wait," she says, her heart lodging in her throat, "that means—"

Calhoun flashes a wolfish grin and says, "We're going to kill them.  _All_  of them." She chuckles low in her throat and exchanges a knowing look with Ariel. "Starting with Arson."


	25. On the Rubble of History

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Waela (FFnet), Those-Who Walk-Alone (FFnet), Elsannity (FFnet), and Justherefortheride (FFnet) for betaing my work.
> 
> * * *

Five Years Ago 

Flesh Ripper chuckles and twirls the bloodied knife in his hand. "I love how stubborn you heroes are," he chuckles. His lips curl into a sick smirk half obscured by the blood smeared and flaking on his see-through face shield. "No matter what you're put through, you keep on fighting."

Anna presses her lips together. She wants to grit her teeth, but Ripper already tried— _tried_ —ripping out half of them and her jaw is flaring from overwhelming pain.

Anna was captured several days ago, as far as she can tell. She awoke in a dirty underground hideout of sorts. Dirty bulbs flicker overhead, the dim lights glinting in the water dripping from the jagged rock ceiling. Several rusty restraint tables set on forty-five degree angles line the walls, and pristine torture equipment rests on a table covered in black cloth.

Ripper himself is decked out head to toe in some kind of hazmat suit that shields him from fluids, ridding Anna of the only advantage she might've had. She's not sure what Ripper did, but she doesn't have access to any of her powers. Her passive abilities are still active, but the only one that could have given her an advantage, her poisonous blood, is null and void with Ripper's getup.

Ripper laughs and sets his blade in a small tub of red-tinted water. "Oh, I _love_ heroes," he purrs, picking up what looks like a barbaric rendition of a locking C clamp. He turns to Anna with a glint in his eyes.

Dread twists Anna's heart, but she doesn't say anything. There's nothing she _can_ say. This man doesn't want information or allegiance, he just wants to see her break.

Ripper's eyes flick to Anna's hands. Anna's eyes harden and she curls her fingers into fists. That, at least, will protect her fingernails.

Ripper grins. "Yes, hero, fight me," he chortles. He grabs a hammer in his free hand, walks over, and smashes the hammer into Anna's knuckles.

A dull pain vibrates up Anna's arm, but she can tell no damage has been done to her. Regardless of the suppression of her active powers, her passive abilities remain in full effect, including her durability. Ripper may be a meta but his super strength is meager, which is the only reason she isn't crippled.

Ripper laughs and closes the locking C clamp on Anna's bottom lip. "Hold that," he says and, with a smirk, releases his grip on it.

Anna grunts as her bottom lip is snapped down her chin, but besides being uncomfortable, it doesn't do much to her. She hates to think what pain the other victims before her went through. The pain Eve went through.

This time Anna does grit her teeth, and relishes in the agony.

Eve was a half cybernetic meta Anna came to Eden Prime to train and, hopefully, recruit. That hope was dashed when Eve was kidnapped by Ripper and found dead two days later. When Anna saw Eve's corpse, she stumbled into a nearby bush to empty her stomach.

Ripper takes up a batting stance with the hammer. "Let's give this a couple tries," he airs, and takes a swing. It doesn't hurt.

Anna glares at Ripper. She swallows against her parched throat and, when Ripper swings once again, Anna breaks her long standing silence and spits:

"You're a joke."

Ripper startles and jerks, causing the hammer to slam into the cuff securing Anna's wrist to the table. The metal fractures with a series of sharp _crack_ s.

"A joke?" Ripper asks, narrowing his eyes at Anna. His lips curl into a predatory smile.

"Yeah, a joke," Anna says. Power starts trickling through her veins once more, and Anna raises her eyebrows. _I_ see, she thinks. _It's the cuffs_. She shakes her head and justifies her show of surprise with, "How didn't you know? You've hardly even hurt me after what, two, three days?"

Ripper laughs, but Anna can see she's getting to him. "Yes, of course, I am a joke," he cackles. "I've killed dozens, including your precious Eve, and yet I'm a joke."

Anna's eyes harden and she yanks again the fractured cuff. It creaks and groans, and Ripper takes a startled step back.

"Yes," Anna snarls, stalling for time, "you're a weak _wannabe_ who doesn't stand a chance against _anyone_ who has two clues on how to defend themselves." Eve had more than two clues, but she keeps that to herself.

"I captured you, didn't I?" Ripper snaps.

"Because I _let_ you," Anna laughs, but it's an ominous sound. She concentrates the trace amount of available power into her arm, and she wrenches it. The cuff contorts and shatters. "Tell me," she says, staring Ripper dead in the eye as more magic returns to her, "who is 'captured' in this situation?"

Ripper's eyes widen and he stumbles back.

"Tell me!" Anna roars, and punches the cuff on her other wrist, shattering it. "Who, in this room, is prey!" Her power surges to half strength, and Anna rips her legs, and the cuffs, from the table. " _Tell me, Ripper!_ " she bellows, C clamp and all, and raises each of her legs in turn to rip the cuffs from her ankles.

"Oh, deity," Ripper swears, and bolts for the door.

Now, Anna has always had a deep rooted problem with killing people, but she as she stares at this fleeing piece of dirt, she finds her usual aversion absent. Under different circumstances, maybe that would have concerned her.

Anna releases the locking C clamp from her lip, letting it clatter to the floor, and ignites an explosion in the entryway. Ripper cries out and gets thrown into a wall with a _crunch!_

Without the four cuffs Anna's full power thrums through her veins, and her lips quirk into a mirthless smile. "You're lucky Black Dragon isn't here," she says as she walks to Ripper and stares down her nose at him. "After what you've attempted to do me, she'd fuck you with your own intestines."

Ripper groans in pain in reply, and Anna takes the opportunity to look around. Her attention falls on the other tables, identical to the one she was on. _I wonder . . ._ she thinks, and walks over to the closest table. She sticks her hand into one of the cuffs and secures it. Sure enough, her available magic dips.

"Well, shit," Anna whispers. No wonder Eve couldn't escape. Anna sighs and twists her arm until the cuff snaps from the table. She pulls her arm back and slams it into the rusted metal surface and the restraint on her wrist, weak from age, breaks into pieces.

Anna turns back to Ripper and stares at him. He struggles to move, but his legs aren't responding. Anna would laugh at the irony of how easy Ripper went down, but nothing about this situation is funny.

"How did you find this place? What do you know about it?" Anna asks.

Ripper glares at her through his flame scorched face shield. "I'm not telling you anything," he hisses.

Anna hums. She doubts he knows anything to begin with. This place is so ancient that it isn't even mentioned in fables. If it had been, Anna would have been able to locate it sooner. On the bright side that means no one in recent history was able to construct multi meta suppression artifacts. On the other hand, that means some forgotten civilization could and there's no telling if Eden Prime, or other planets, have surprises like this hidden on them.

"Then we have nothing else to talk about," Anna says. She raises a hand, and Ripper's pupils narrow into pinpricks.

"Are you going to torture me?" Ripper asks.

"That isn't my style," Anna replies. "Under normal circumstances I wouldn't even deal with minor metas such as yourself, but your actions fall under the Protector's villain protocol."

"Ah, yes," Ripper murmurs. "The Protectors, that little club you were trying to get that whore into."

Anna stalks forward and slams her foot into Ripper's face, smashing his face shield and sending shards into his face. Ripper cries out and hovers his hand over the puncture wounds and broken nose.

"Her name was Eve," Anna says. She stands over him a second longer, staring at him, before turning around and walking back to where she was before. She eyes the table with only three cuffs, then the other tables with all four. She has to bring some of this back with her. Maybe they'll get lucky and figure out who made them, when they were made, or even how they were made.

"Ugh," Ripper groans, writhing on the floor. "You _bitch_."

Anna rolls her eyes. "Yeah, because _I'm_ the bastard here," she deadpans, and turns to face him. "Alright, so here's the thing," she says, because outright killing someone who can't fight back is a tad too villainous for her tastes. "Under League rules I have to either kill you or recruit you, and the latter isn't an option because, frankly, I don't like you." That, and Maleficent would kill him anyway.

Ripper grits his teeth. "Well go on then," he growls. "I won't stop you."

"You _can't_ stop me, there's a difference," Anna corrects. "But I will give you a choice." She raises a hand and summons flame to hiss and crackle around her fingers. "You can either die from flame," the fire is replaced by sweltering high temperatures, "heat," she curls her hand into a fist, "or physical injury. Which would you prefer?"

"Choke on piss, whore," Ripper spits.

Anna purses her lips. She walks to the table where Ripper's tools are laid out and grabs a knife. "I'm not willing to piss on you," she says, slicing one of her fingers open. She walks over to him and holds out her hand, letting her blood drip on his face. "Will you settle for choking on blood?"

Ripper stares at her, then roars with laughter. "That's the best you got?" he hoots. "Do you think blood scares me?"

"No," Anna replies, "but mine should." She sticks her finger in her mouth and uses her tongue to sooth the wound. She steps away and gives the room a proper examination.

Other than the torture tables, that Anna suspects are far older than the wear and tear leads an untrained eye to believe, the space itself looks like it used to be a room. The walls are straight, the designs manufactured, and the uneven floor used to be some sort of linoleum.

Ripper cackles behind her. "Are the rest of the Protectors as stupid as you?"

"Are the rest of minor metas as stupid as you?" Anna counters. Her eye catches a dull gleam of silver half buried in a pile of dirt, and she picks it up. She wipes the grime from it and tilts her head. It looks like a pendant that should belong on a necklace, or maybe alongside dog tags. On the front of the pendant is a faded engraving of an armoured ram head, with half defaced symbols written under it.

Anna frowns when her translation device—something Ripper had left in so they could understand each other—struggles to translate the symbols into anything other than gibberish. When the device settles on 'D... E...ron', Anna shakes her head and flips it over. The symbols on this side aren't as damaged, but her device still can't convert it properly. It ends up reading: ' _Dof Mruncron$ mfro_ao ilsu k#ne lsidn)) hjsc+}_ '.

Anna hums and rolls the pendant around in her fingers. The translation device must have never encountered this language, which is saying something, considering Emma, and later Darryl, had used these during their reign as ultimates.

Ripper collapses into a coughing fit.

Anna gives Ripper a cursory glance. He's got one hand clutched to his head and the other pressed into his chest. Anna shakes her head and walks to the bag Ripper had used to bring his tools and food. The food is gone, but the bag itself is useful.

Placing the pendant between her teeth, Anna walks around the room and rips off multiple table cuffs, bits of the table themselves, and various objects around the room, throwing them all in the bag. She takes the pendant from her mouth and slips it under the neck of her skin tight uniform. She'd prefer putting it in a pocket, but her outfit doesn't have any. She should remedy that someday.

Anna tosses the bag near the exit and rolls her neck. She looks to Ripper, wondering if he's still conscious. He is.

"I wonder how many people used this place the same way you did," Anna says. Ripper responds with choking sounds. Anna ignites hellfire at the back of her throat, and her body trembles as the hell ability surges to life inside her. "I suppose it doesn't matter," she says, and she can't help how ironic it is that she sounds like a spirit of death with the howling of the damned mixing with her voice.

Anna takes a deep breath, calming herself as silver laced pitch black flames rolls from her mouth and beelines towards her hands. So long as her hellfire isn't trapped in or around her mouth, she can produce as she likes and use it similarly to her regular fire.

Spreading her arms wide, Anna blasts the hellfire at the tables. A haunting sound of unearthly crackling of fire and howls of the damned echoes through the room. She wishes she could have taken a picture before she destroyed the place, but her phone is in the ship.

She _really_ needs pockets.

 _Oh well_ , Anna thinks, and cuts off her hellfire, leaving what's already been summoned to burn itself up. She can use direct access to recreate the room from memory.

The sound of metal on stone cuts through the dying echoes of hellfire and Anna blinks. She looks into the crater she created and, sure enough, a small silver object rests at the bottom of it.

"Something that can survive HF?" Anna murmurs, and jumps into the hole. She picks it up and tilts her head. It's a ring. It's a simple silver band of metal with an engraving on the inside that Anna's translation device can't decode. "Hm," she hums, and slips it onto her middle finger for transport. It's a perfect fit.

Anna jumps back out the crater and walks to the entrance. She grabs the bag and slings it over her shoulder. She looks at Ripper once more, watching his body contort in agony. He won't last long.

"Goodbye, Ripper," Anna says, and exits the room.

She walks down what must have been a hallway at some point in time, marked by the almost smooth walls and the material of the floor, but it ends when she reaches a rough vertical tunnel leading to the surface. Everything past the tunnel has collapsed in on itself.

Anna flies through the tunnel and the odd twist and turn along the way. It takes her longer than predicted to get to the top, not because of any power fluctuation but the depth of the hole itself. It makes Anna wonder – was the room deep underground to begin with, or has it been buried under countless centuries of added topsoil?

Anna bursts through the wood and vine covering the entrance of the tunnel and into a dense forest. With her senses dull from lack of food or drink, Anna smashes face first into a tree, hard enough to leave an imprint.

Falling to the ground with a grunt, Anna rubs her jaw and drops the bag.

"Right," Anna airs, turning around to face the hole in the ground, "because if a sociopath doesn't break my nose, that means I have to give it a shot."

Anna stares at the tunnel entrance and tilts her head. She slams her foot into the ground, breaking it into a large chunk of rock and soil, and wedges it into the hole with a solid kick. It will be enough to stop anyone from falling in.

A growl rumbles from Anna's stomach and she touches it.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she murmurs, throwing the bag over her shoulder. "I'll deal with you in a minute." She pulls her fabric half face mask up over her nose.

Silence engulfs Anna as she scales the tree she head butted. When she passes through the top layer of foliage, she hops to the strongest branch available to her and launches herself into the air. The branch breaks beneath the force, and Anna watches it fall as she hovers several stories above the forest.

Anna purses her lips and propels herself further into the sky until she can spot the edge of the forest. She angles herself and flies towards the edge without thought, but makes sure to go slow enough to not tear apart the bag on her back.

With her pace the trip is painful and slow. It gives her plenty of time to see the town situated at the forest edge, and plenty of time to recognize it as the one Eve lived in.

The only bright side is that Anna will get access to her ship. She's not looking forward to relaying Ripper's death, even though she knows how relieving the new will be for the town's folk. She doesn't like being praised for being a murderer.

Anna goes to the ship first. She puts the bag in a secure chest and eats. Despite not eating or drinking for days, she has to force it down her throat. It leaves a bitter taste on her tongue.

The next thing Anna does is visit the town's mayor and Eve's family to inform them of the situation. It goes about as well as Anna predicted.

"Thank you," the mayor says, cupping Anna's hand between both of hers. "My people can rest easy knowing that barbarian has been taken care of."

The corners of Anna's eyes pinch and she turns to Eve's parents. "I just wish I was able to deal with the situation sooner." She locks eyes with the mayor once more. "Hey," she says, before he can compliment her further, "do you know anything about the ancient ruins in the forest?"

The mayor's eyebrows shoot into his hairline. "What ruins?" he asks. "We have ruins?" He looks to Eve's parents. "Eve liked exploring the forest. Did she ever mention anything?"

Anna knows what their answer will be before they say anything. If Eve knew, she would have mentioned it when they started tracking Ripper.

"No," Eve's dad says. His eyes flick to Anna. "Is that . . . where Flesh Ripper operated?"

Anna huffs a soft sigh through her nose and nods. "I suppose that means you won't be able to translate this, then?" she asks, pulling the pendant from her uniform. The three natives examine the text.

"I've never seen it before," the mayor says, considering. He pulls out his personal communication device and uses it to make a digital rendition of the object. "My top linguists will look at it once they're available," he says. "If they learn anything I'll get in touch with you, if I can."

"The League's network comes out this far, so you should be able to," Anna says. She tucks the pendant back into the neck of her uniform and takes the mayor's communication device. She programs the League's emergency coded number, monitored by Calhoun, into it.

"We don't have as many relays out here so the signal can be shabby sometimes," Anna says, handing the device back, "but you'll be able to get a hold of us if you need to and we'll be able to get a hold of you. Just call that number once when I leave. When asked what the emergency is, say 'Arson wanted to ensure you have this number on record'. You'll be asked personal questions about yourself. Answer them as honestly as you can; she'll be creating a file for you in order to cut out any confusion the next time you need to get in touch."

The mayor nods. "Alright, thank you," he says. He tilts his head and gives Anna an odd look. "Are you leaving right away?"

"As soon as I finish here, yeah," Anna answers. "There's no reason for me to stay here anymore, and my home planet needs me." Anna isn't sure if the latter is true, but it's as good an excuse as any.

"Oh," the mayor says, and frowns. "I was hoping you would stay for when I address the media about the Ripper issue."

Anna's stomach lurches at the thought, and she swallows to keep down her lunch. Or was it supper? "I'd prefer not to," she says, her gaze flicking to the far wall. "I just escaped after being trapped in the same room as him for who knows how long, and I'd rather not dwell on it."

Eve's mother rests a comforting hand on Anna's shoulder and smiles, small and broken. "Thank you for going through that to avenge my Eve," she says, her voice cracking. Tears spill down her cheeks.

"You're welcome," Anna says, flashing the woman a damaged smile no one can see.

Anna ends the conversation as quick as she can after that, and leaves.

When Anna is back on her ship she doesn't hesitate to input her codes to activate the higher speeds and turn on autopilot.

It's when Anna's about to lie down that the transmission comes in.

" _Hey, Arson, this is Calhoun. I see you're on your way back now. How was it?_ "

Anna hesitates. "It was fine," she replies, and frowns at herself.

Calhoun hums. " _That doesn't sound promising_ ," she says, as astute as ever.

Anna winces. "It . . . isn't," she sighs, and pinches the bridge of her nose. "There were complications at the settlement."

" _Complications?_ " Calhoun questions.

"Yeah," Anna says. "The settlement Eve lived at was having trouble with a minor meta calling himself Flesh Ripper."

" _Creative_ ," Calhoun drones, and her sarcasm makes Anna smile.

"Not everyone can have cool names," Anna replies.

" _Yeah, not even the Elites_ ," Calhoun laughs. " _I mean, 'Black Dragon'? 'Bear'? Yeah, very unique guys, nailed it_."

"To be fair," Anna giggles, "Black Dragon wanted to be called the Mistress of Despair."

" _I remember_ ," Calhoun deadpans. " _Jesus, I can't believe you managed to recruit that destructive piece of shit_."

Anna rolls her eyes, but something lodges in her chest at the reminder. "Hey," she says, wincing at her change of tone, "can I talk to her, or is she busy?"

For a long couple of seconds Calhoun doesn't answer, but then she says, " _Are . . . are you okay, Arson?_ "

Tears well in Anna's eyes and she grits her teeth, despite how much her jaw still hurts. "No, I'm not," she says.

" _I can patch in Athena_ ," Calhoun suggests.

"In a minute," Anna hinges. "I just want to talk to Black Dragon, first."

Calhoun hums. She doesn't sound pleased. " _Alright_ ," she says, " _give me a moment to page her_."

A moment, indeed. Anna waits, bouncing her leg and forcing herself to take even breaths, for a full three minutes before Maleficent's voice crackles over the line.

"— _Sure she asked for me?_ " Maleficent asks, somewhat in the distance. Anna doesn't hear Calhoun's response, but Maleficent grunts, " _Well then it better be important_." Shuffling sounds, and then, clearer, she says, " _What_." Not a question or a statement, but a demand.

Anna's hands start to tremble and she tightens her fingers into fists to diminish it. "How secure is this conversation?" she asks.

" _We have Calhoun and HFS. We're fine_ ," Maleficent grunts, and Anna can almost see the eye roll in the dragon's tone.

"I mean is there anyone else in the room with you?" Anna asks. "Is it just us?"

Maleficent barks a short, dry laugh. " _'Just us' doesn't apply with Calhoun creeping in_."

"Please," Anna begs, not having the patience for the dragon's usual routine. "Are you alone?"

A sharp intake of air hisses over the line and, quieter, Maleficent orders, " _Blast the lights. Lock the door_." Anna knows the dragon isn't talking to her. A moment passes. " _Alright_ ," Maleficent says, " _we're secure. Now, pray tell, what the_ fuck _was so important_ —"

"Meli," Anna interrupts, and she hates the way her voice cracks, but she means the sentiment. She _needs_ the sentiment. It's the only way to get Maleficent to treat her like something other than a prize to be won or a discarded toy – two sentiments the dragon switches between when dealing with Anna.

A choked sound between a groan and a whine filters over the speakers, and Anna knows she got what she wanted. She just prays it's actually what she needs.

" _Yes?_ " Maleficent asks, a breathless quality to her voice, like she can't quite believe what she's hearing. It makes sense. Anna tries her best to avoid calling her Meli. It's Anna's selfish way of ignoring the fact that she's bound to this dragon, could be _mated_ to this dragon.

Anna already knows Maleficent's pheromones are starting to stick in her blood—god knows how—and part of her wonders if it's only a matter of time before they become a permanent fixture. If they do, Anna can kiss her freedom goodbye.

"I was tortured on Eden Prime," Anna said. She winces. Not the best opener. "I'm fine. Enough. He was—"

" _You were_ what?" Maleficent snarls. " _Who dared to fuck with what's mine?_ "

Anna huffs a mirthless chuckle. "I only knew him by Flesh Ripper," she replies. "Minor meta. Couldn't do much damage to me besides a few cuts. He tried ripping my teeth out; he failed, but it still hurts like a bitch. The most success he had was dehydration and starvation."

A deep growl rumbles through the call. " _I'll tear him limb from limb_ ," Maleficent spits.

"For once, I would be inclined to let you," Anna says, "but he's dead. I killed him. Not for me, per se, but for Eve. The meta I went to recruit? He . . . tortured her before me. Tore her to bits. He—" her voice cracks and she forces herself to take a deep breath. "Eve's dead."

Maleficent doesn't reply.

Tears well and spill from Anna's eyes. Why is she talking to Maleficent about this, of all people? Maleficent tortures people for sport. She's done things Ripper hadn't even dreamed of. Why would she care about Eve's untimely death or Anna's lackluster torture experience?

"I'm sorry, I know you don't care," Anna says, and she grips at her heart. When had it started hurting? "I'm sorry," she repeats, but she isn't sure who she's apologising to. Maleficent? Eve? Herself? "I'm sorry," she sobs. "This was a mistake."

" _Her vitals are spiking_ ," Calhoun warns. Anna knows she isn't talking to her.

Anna glances to the health monitoring station next to her. The stats are erratic, and the alert level is edging from green into yellow. Is this a panic attack?

Anna clutches at her head with her free hand. Why hadn't she listened to Calhoun? Why didn't she talk to Jennifer? Jennifer knows how to calm her before the attack starts. Jennifer knows how to keep the ghosts at bay.

All Maleficent knows how to do is bring the ghosts closer.

Awkward shuffling sounds on the other end, and Maleficent clears her throat. " _I admit I am not well versed in sympathy_ ," she says. " _If anyone other than you had relayed this information I can't say I'd have cared much. In a way, I still don't care all that much_."

" _You are terrible at consoling_ ," Calhoun deadpans.

" _You always go to Athena for things like this_ ," Maleficent continues, ignoring Calhoun. " _You never let yourself expose your deeper emotions to me and I . . . am at an impasse. I want to help you but I don't know how. I want to make the pain go away but I don't understand why. I don't know what to do, Arson. I don't know how to help you_." She takes in a steadying breath. " _Get Athena_ ," she murmurs. Anna knows she's talking to Calhoun.

"Meli—" Anna tries.

" _I get it_ ," Maleficent says. " _It took me a while, but I get it. I know I'm not a good match for you. That doesn't mean I won't stop fighting for you, because I won't, but I get that I'm not the emotional pillar you need_."

Anna grits her teeth, and it hurts. She should let her body heal that damage before she adds to it. "I didn't call you because I wanted emotional support," she says, and it feels true, but she doesn't get it, even as the words leave her mouth. "I didn't call you because I wanted to be comforted." Didn't she? "I didn't ask for you because I wanted a substitute for Athena, I wanted _you_." Only, what part of Maleficent did she want?

Anna growls and pulls at her hair. What is Maleficent good at that Jennifer isn't? Or, better question, what is Maleficent good at that doesn't make Anna want to retch? Jennifer is a good person, but has both high and low morals. Maleficent has no morals. More often than not, she just doesn't give a shit—

Oh.

 _Oh_.

"I don't want to be told it's 'okay' or it's 'not okay'," Anna says. "I don't want to be comforted, or coddled, or told I'm being a baby. I just want to talk to someone as if everything's normal." Tears burn Anna's eyes. Snot dribbles from her nose. "This sort of thing is common for you. The dark things. And it doesn't bother you. So I want to talk about—" her eyes shift to the side. "I just want to talk. To remind myself that life moves on."

A moment of silence greets her.

Then Maleficent huffs a short laugh, one that actually sounds, in part, amused.

" _Okay, love_ ," Maleficent says, sounding more relaxed than before. " _You know, Bear pulled a prank on Hades the other day_."

Anna's eyes soften and she relaxes into her seat. Off to the side, her stats on the health monitor start calming down. "Oh yeah?" she asks.

" _Yeah_ ," Maleficent replies. " _I wish you could have seen it. It was hysterical_."

Anna chuckles and curls her legs underneath her, settling herself in. "I'd love to hear about it."

" _I'll do you one better. I'll send you security footage_ ," Maleficent says.

" _You damn well won't_ ," Calhoun snaps. " _If she wishes to see it she can do so upon her return_."

Maleficent huffs an arrogant laugh. " _I have the clearance, buttsnack. I can do whatever the fuck I want_."

A fond smile curls Anna's lips, but she doesn't intervene in the squabble. _Thank you, Meli_.

* * *

Present Day 

Anna's head pounds, but still, she stands in front of the other Elites without complaint. Pain twists her features into something more severe than she'd like, but she isn't in any mindset to change it.

Days have gone by since Calhoun's return and the debacle in the medical bay. Rapunzel's powers are starting to return after blowing them out in her effort to save Calhoun, which is something Anna desperately wants to avoid happening again.

Even though Rapunzel is a heaven healer, she is untrained in her more advanced ability. In drawing from that ability without focus to save someone near death, well, the fallout wasn't pretty. Calhoun hadn't been fully healed—healed enough to kick unsuspecting ass, but not enough to hold her own in a true battle—and Rapunzel's powers had shorted out. Anna couldn't offer much in the way of advice at the time.

Anna had resorted to hellfire to break through the barrier separating her and Calhoun's body from Ariel and Rapunzel. After Calhoun was aware enough to make sense of the world around her, she hadn't wasted time dragging Anna to the medical bay and shoving the suppressant into her neck.

It had been a horrible day for everyone.

Anna glances across the table at Calhoun, who thumbs the bundle of papers in front of her, and her heart warms. Some good things come out of the darkness, at least.

"So," Belle says, measuring her words. She looks up from Ariel's file. "I've essentially been promoting your torture for two years?"

All the new Elites are in the Planning Room, the room the old Elites had used to store unwritten records of every known meta. Each file detailed a meta's exact home location, real name, family, friends, strengths, weaknesses, and whether or not their personality leans towards them turning into a hero, a villain, or a nobody. At the end of some files, including those of the old junior leaguers, there are specific instructions on eliminating every one of them.

Mulan's file, to her horror, had the note:

 _Best Elites to engage: Arson and Black Dragon. Arson can eradicate shadows and Black Dragon can act without sentimental emotions getting in the way_.

Ariel rubs the back of her neck, sheepish. "You didn't know," she hinges.

"That doesn't change the facts," Belle says, her lips tightening into a thin line. "I hurt you." Her hand twitches, and she hisses through her teeth. "I wish you would have told me."

Mulan, her hand laced with Ariel's, nods in agreement. "I wish you'd told us sooner," she agrees, and squeezes Ariel's hand. "But I'll settle with now." She flashes Belle a small, encouraging smile. "Better late than never."

Belle's eyes soften, but it doesn't look like she's anywhere near forgiving herself. She reaches across the table regardless, and Ariel clasps their hands together.

"Alright," Anna says, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat and pounds her fist on her chest. She coughs.

Rapunzel frowns and glances her way. "Are you sure you don't want me to heal you?" she asks.

"I don't want you healing anybody until your powers get back up to full charge," Anna reiterates, for what feels like the hundredth time. It's tempting to say yes, if only to be rid of the lingering headache, the ache in her muscles, and the burning in her lungs, but she's been through worse before. She can go through it again.

Anna gestures to the files on the table. "Are you all done reading those?" she asks.

The Elites look around at each other, waiting for someone to say they didn't read all them all, but no one does.

"Good," Anna says, and collects the five bundles—one for each of the new Elites—and burns them to ash.

The new Elites jerk in their seats.

"What the hell was that for?" Belle demands, her eyes wide.

"We are the unspoken names on the board," Anna says, walking over to the map of the universe and removing four names. "Being an Elite means recognising that we, as a group and individuals, are as dangerous as everyone else. We have to remember our dangerous potential but never show physical evidence." She turns back to face the table. "We must eliminate any physical evidence that any of us, under certain circumstances, are untrustworthy. It doesn't bolster confidence."

Rapunzel eyes the long table to the side, housing uncountable files. "What about the rest of the League?" she asks.

Mulan raises an eyebrow. "You read my file," she says. "I'd think you'd know the answer to that."

Anna raises a hand. "For the time being, those files are just a formality," she says. "This 'exclusive Elite' party of ours will only last until we fake Arson's death. Then most, if not all, of the League will be integrated into the Elites."

"Yeah, about that," Ariel says, a quizzical tilt to her head. "How do you plan to pull that off?"

"With a little help with Scar, and a lot of help from Belle," Anna replies.

Belle's eyebrows shoot into her hairline. "Me?" she asks. "Why me?"

"I'll need use of Scar's equipment," Anna replies. "It will be a televised event so I'll need his drones, and if I get dismembered I'll need the hellfire-proof artificial limbs he created for me, but I don't want him pulling a Mechanical Warfare over my head."

Belle's eyebrows furrow. "We can make those ourselves. At least the first one," she says. "Why do we need Scar at all?"

"Dismembered?" Ariel repeats, eyes wide.

"I might be," Anna clarifies. "I don't know how my fight with Calhoun will go. To make it convincing we will be fighting for real, and we have to be prepared for the consequences."

"Might as well prepare some limbs for me as well, Belle," Calhoun says, not stopping her examination of the room. Anna doesn't blame her. Calhoun's been waiting to get in here for a long time.

Belle stares at Calhoun, then Anna, and then shakes her head. "Maybe I missed something," she says, "but how did we go from 'fighting' to 'dismembering'? What are you two planning on doing to each other?"

Calhoun raises an eyebrow. "Beat the shit out of each other," she deadpans.

"Yeah, _beat_ each other," Belle emphasizes. "At what point did either of you think, 'oh, good, I'm fighting my friend to fake a death. I better rip their hand off'?"

"That's like asking why Scar keeps trying to steal my eyes even though we're steadfast allies," Anna says, then frowns. "Through circumstance."

Mulan's face twists. "Scar is trying to steal your eyes?" she repeats, as if it will make sense if she says it herself. By her expression, it doesn't.

"Yeah," Anna says. "It isn't a big deal," she adds after no one reacts well. "He's done worse. Like that time— actually you know what, this is a bad example, I don't know why I used it."

"That makes two of us," Calhoun says, her throat fluttering with restrained amusement.

Anna rolls her eyes and turns to Belle. "The point is," Anna says, "I've gone through things that forced me to accept harsher versions of reality, and so has Calhoun."

"I mean yeah, I get that," Belle says, "but I don't get why you think you're going to _dismember_ each other."

Anna twitches a remorseful smile. "Part of being an Elite is preparing for the worst, always," she says. "Which reminds me," she adds, glancing to Calhoun, "if you have any spare time, can you start formulating possible suppression items for all of us?"

Calhoun raises an eyebrow. "All?" she questions. "Are you including yourself in that number?"

"Yeah," Anna confirms. "Just in case the ones I have now can't contain heaven abilities, whenever I figure out how to use them."

"Well that's a weird thought," Mulan murmurs, rubbing her jaw. "I don't know if I like the idea of having an easy way of subduing any of us."

"You liked it when I went Red," Anna counters, and the table falls silent. She hisses out a sigh and scrubs her face. "I admit there's a possibility of the items being used incorrectly, but we _need_ to have them. The first Incident proves that anything can happen, and it's our job to create as many fallbacks as we can to limit the damage." Her gaze flicks aside. "Maybe this time we'll get lucky and we won't end up regretting more than we already do."

For a long moment nobody talks. The Elites sit with hung heads and thoughtful glances.

"I'm going to need to make myself some armour now that my armour summoning ability is gone," Calhoun murmurs, in a jarring change of topic.

"How _did_ you lose your armour summoning?" Mulan asks. "From what I gathered from your file, the armour and weapon summoning abilities were interlinked."

"First, I don't know, but I suspect Alpha Alpha," Calhoun says. She turns to Anna. "Second, I'm offended I even _had_ a file. I was an Elite like the rest of you."

Anna's eyebrows creep up her forehead. The old Elites hadn't really talked about the matter, but it was an unspoken agreement that they wouldn't address the matter until they knew Calhoun's fate for certain.

"We didn't know how to classify you," Anna settles with. She gestures to the universe board. "We removed your name from the board, but we didn't know what to do with your file." Her gaze flicks aside. "I guess we were waiting until we knew what was going to happen to you."

Calhoun's eyes soften and she nods.

Mulan rests her head in her free hand, a contemplative look on her face. "So," she says, "with this death plan of yours, do you think Alpha Alpha will interfere?"

While Anna was out cold—or awake and barfing—Calhoun, Ariel, and Rapunzel filled Mulan and Belle in with everything they knew to date about Alpha Alpha, Chel, Moana Landalis, and Gatekeepers, as well as the situation with Archangel and Reaper. That latter conversation was one Anna's glad she missed.

"I doubt it," Anna replies. "Despite his direct intervention a couple days ago, I doubt he's likely to do it again."

Calhoun's fingers, once tapping on the table, freeze. She gives Anna a critical look.

Anna opens her mouth to say, 'you were there', but stops herself. Calhoun's consciousness was ripped from the League system and shoved back into her body before Alpha Alpha showed up.

"It was during the emergency lockdown in the Elite quarters," Anna explains, leaning against the table. "Right after talking with Moana, and right before Calhoun's body showed up."

Calhoun twitches. "Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

"I've been recovering from the suppressant from hell, remember?" Anna drones. "That," she adds, "and I forgot you weren't a witness. I thought you told everyone already since you filled them in on everything else."

Rapunzel purses her lips and narrows her eyes. "What did he do?" she asks. She doesn't sound pleased, but the displeasure isn't aimed at Anna.

"He shoved my face into the wall," Anna replies. "He broke my nose, punched me a couple times, and said something about not allowing me to run around 'unchecked' now that I had access to my bloodline seal. Once he was done he threw me to the floor. I never saw him," she adds, "but I suspect it was him."

Calhoun's eyebrows furrow. "Because I showed up?" she questioned.

"Not just that," Anna says, "it was the way he worded it. He said something like 'not needing this anymore' and _then_ you showed up. We know Alpha Alpha had Calhoun's body and, if Moana is to be trusted, Alpha Alpha is the only active Gatekeeper besides Moana and myself."

"Could Alpha Alpha be Moana?" Mulan asks.

"They sounded different," Anna says.

"She could have used a voice modulator," Mulan refutes.

"They felt different," Anna argues. "Moana was inviting. Alpha Alpha was . . . I felt like I was suffocating. I suspect the sensation has to do with raw power. I've read reports of people who were around— around—" Anna gags on her own spit trying to say their names, so she doesn't try. "The heaven and hell ultimates before they put seals on their magic. I suspect the same applies to actualized Gatekeepers, only doubled."

Mulan looks confused for a moment about the use of 'ultimates', then it hits her. Anna knows because the hero's eyes widen in horror, and she doesn't dare say the names aloud.

'Archangel' and 'Reaper' have become as good as curse words among the new Elites.

"Moana did specify that the Red, Gold, or Gray change was only permanent after surpassing natural limits for too long," Rapunzel pipes in. "It's possible she actualized just long enough to do, well, whatever she did to you, and then reverse the process before it became permanent."

"I doubt it, but it's a possibility we can't afford to rule out," Anna allows.

"I don't mean to backtrack," Mulan says, worry lines etched into her forehead, "but I'm concerned about what Alpha Alpha did to you."

Anna hesitates, and she shares a look with Calhoun. Calhoun purses her lips, and nods.

"We might have an idea on that," Anna says, hesitant. She turns to Rapunzel. "Don't heal me or anything," she instructs, "but can you do a detailed scan of my head?"

Rapunzel raises an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't want me using magic?" she asks.

"I don't," Anna says, "but this . . ." she sighs. "If I'm compromised, we need to know. It's too dangerous to wait." ' _I'm_ too dangerous' remains unsaid.

Rapunzel stares at Anna for a long second, then bobs her head in a slow nod. "Is there anything specific I should be looking for?" she asks, and Anna knows why. Rapunzel had already healed Anna once after the Alpha Alpha encounter, before she attended to Calhoun, and didn't notice anything. Anna doesn't know why.

Once again, Anna shares a look with Calhoun. This time it's for courage, not permission.

"Look for anything out of place," Anna says, "and perhaps something . . . metal."

Rapunzel frowns, but doesn't question. Her eyes lose focus, and they flick back and forth as if examining information no one else sees, or maybe it helps her concentrate. Anna never thought to ask.

Rapunzel's lips tighten, and her eyes refocus on the room. "I can see why I missed it the first time," she says. "Whatever it is, it was put in an inconspicuous spot, and it blends in with its organic surroundings."

Anna's heart falls into her stomach. "How big is it?" she asks.

"Not very," Rapunzel says, and lifts her hand to show a space between her thumb and pointer. "About this long." She changes the distance between her fingers. "This wide." She changes the distance again, so that her fingers are almost touching. "And this thick."

Anna's grim expression turns sour and she turns to Calhoun. "I think you were right," she says.

Calhoun _tsk_ 's, looking far from pleased, and she says, "Yeah, I think so, too."

"Right about what?" Rapunzel asks.

Anna waves her hand at Calhoun in a 'go ahead' motion. Doing so makes her notice her hand is shaking, but so are her arms and legs. Her muscles and lungs burn, and her wicked headache has increased a notch. She sits down.

Calhoun sighs and scratches the side of her neck. "We suspect Alpha Alpha put something akin to a bomb in Anna's head," she says, and the Elites jerk. Or, at least, Ariel jerks hard enough to shake everyone else. "That," Calhoun continues, "or it's something like the control mechanism Scar gave to Mechanical Warfare."

"The only bright side on the latter, _if_ it's the latter," Anna says, "is that I don't have a power cell inside by body or enough natural energy to fuel it, which means it won't do shit." She tips her head and massages the bridge of her nose. "Unfortunately, that's the only 'bright side'."

Distress colours Ariel's cheeks. "So if you don't do what Alpha Alpha wants, you'll either get your head blown off or lose your free will?" she asks. Her voice trembles.

"From what we can discern, yes," Anna replies. There's no point deluding her teammates with false hope. They need to know the full extent of danger. "We also have the feeling that I'm being monitored by Chel, which is why we're having this meeting in the Planning Room." She eyes Calhoun. "The technology blackout prevents nosy parties or AI's from eavesdropping."

Calhoun rolls her eyes. "If I'd known it was so damn boring in here, I wouldn't have tried so hard to get access."

Anna rolls her eyes. Calhoun had tried getting droids in this room to investigate when the old Elites were away. She never succeeded.

"The point is, I'm on the clock," Anna says. "I suspect I'll be fine so long as I don't try actualizing, but it's hard to say for sure. Alpha Alpha isn't the easiest guy to read."

Mulan hums. "It kind of reminds me of us trying to read you, before you came back to the League," she says.

Anna gives Mulan a confused look, even though the statement isn't all that perplexing. In reality, it makes too much sense.

Mulan shrugs. "We didn't know you or your motives all that well," she explains. "We didn't know what your goals were or what your motivations were. The junior leaguers had some hints thanks to Hades' general message, but we didn't get it. We didn't know what happened, so we didn't know what you were retaliating against.

"And like you, Alpha Alpha has a goal inspired by a reason we're oblivious to," Mulan says. "We can't predict his movements or thought patterns because we don't know why he's trying to achieve his goal, or even the specifics of that optimal goal. We can't even predict his behavior based on past behaviour because he's as good as a ghost, and what we do know makes no sense. In the grand scheme of things, we . . . don't really know anything about him."

Anna nods, and instinctive, sombre laughter bubbles from her lips. "I bet if Jen were here, that wouldn't be much of a problem," she says, and the words stab an emotional knife into her heart.

Mulan and Rapunzel frown. Calhoun nods in agreement. Ariel's eyes soften with pity. Belle takes a moment to think it over and then perks, a small, proud smile curling the corners of her lips.

"Jen?" Rapunzel questions.

Anna hesitates, then gives Rapunzel an odd look. "You've been an Elite for a week now, and you haven't checked out the old Elite profiles?" she asks.

Mulan sits rim rod straight, and her eyes alight with joy. "I forgot all about that!"

"Same," Rapunzel drones, and waves a flippant hand. "I'm not sure if you're aware, but I was made Elite in the midst of a shit storm. It never occurred to me to investigate anything non-critical."

"I did have her in training a lot," Ariel agrees. "I can attest that she has been mostly sleeping or getting beaten up."

Rapunzel narrows her eyes. "Don't mock me," she says, but there's no malice in her tone. Then she frowns. "Wait, you didn't look surprised."

Ariel's throat flutters with suppressed laughter. "I read a lot of the files on or regarding the old Elites while you were passed out," she says. Rapunzel's eyes narrow further, and Ariel's lips curl into a soft smile. "I wanted to learn more about Anna's life, so my priorities were a little different than yours."

Rapunzel rolls her eyes, but she loops an arm around Ariel's shoulders regardless. "Of course you'd think file searching is more important than investigating," she says.

"There wasn't much need," Ariel replies. "Belle was tackling the digital front and Calhoun had checked out the only physical location that could have given us a clue."

Calhoun huffs out an irritated breath. "Yeah, and some clue it was," she utters.

Anna had given Calhoun permission and coordinates to search Anna and Jennifer's joint contingency bunker. Anna was too sick to go anywhere, but the Elites needed to know the extent of Chel's involvement, so Anna instructed Calhoun to bring Chel back with her so Anna and Belle could analyse the data.

Only, Chel wasn't there.

"Yeah," Anna agrees, then sighs.

The Elites lapse into silence.

"So-o-o," Ariel says, drawing out the word, "how exactly is Arson's death going to work?"

Anna blinks. She forgot she hadn't finished explaining that.

"In short," Calhoun says, "Anna and I will battle. We'll go all out, but we'll hold back our more devastating abilities. Anna will pretend she's still a bit of a cripple. In the end Anna will die." She eyes Anna. "Remember to empty your bowels. We need to make it believable."

Anna curls her lip in distaste. "We'll see," she says. She turns to Belle. "You will be in charge of the drones if Scar doesn't want the job and you will be Calhoun's supply chain. I will dress up as Arson and convince Scar that I need his help a day before the battle, and he will be my supply chain. I will give you anything you need to access Scar's network and ensure that anything he gives me will actually help me. If it won't, shoot it from the sky."

Anna turns to Rapunzel. "You will excuse yourself from the viewing of the battle at the League base," she says. "Make up any excuse you want. After that, you and Mulsn will travel to the battlefield in one of our special operative ships with advanced cloaking. You will be in charge of making sure neither Calhoun or I die without making it obvious that we're being healed."

Anna turns to Mulan. "If we can manage it before the battle date, I want to pick up on James' training with you and, hopefully, expand the capacity of your powers."

Mulan brightens, then frowns. "How so?" she asks.

"Your shadowing power is a watered down version of a hell ability called shadow teleportation," Anna explains, "so I think yours can expand in somewhat the same way."

Mulan's eyebrow furrow. "That . . . just sounds like the power I already have," she says.

Anna blinks, then laughs. "It does, doesn't it?" she asks, but it isn't a question. "The hell ability version has the user summon a smoky shadow and they 'teleport' bit by bit as it engulfs them. I say 'teleport'," she backtracks, "but it's not really teleportation. It's more of a isolated portal-ing that doesn't involve hell as an in-between point."

Mulan stares. "Okay," she says. "What does that have to do with me?"

"In shadow teleportation," Anna says, "anything covered in the black misty shit can be teleported, whether it's them or someone else. James suspected you might have potential to do something of the same thing, only with people who are hiding in natural shadows."

Mulan rubs her jaw. "I might have the ability to . . . teleport other people?" she asks. She doesn't sound like she believes it. Then she looks at Anna. "Is James Hades' real name?"

Anna blinks. Right. Mulan hadn't read the files on the old Elites.

"Yeah," Anna says. "Hades' name was James, Athena's name was Jennifer—" her voice gives out and she grits her teeth. She won't cry. She won't. "Black Dragon was Maleficent—"

"It was a very appropriate name," Calhoun interrupts. "She was a bitch."

"She was sometimes kind to me so shut up," Anna says, but her heart isn't in it. Meli really was a bitch. Anna just had the fortune of being on the dragon's good side. "Lastly, Bear was Elinor."

"Ah, okay," Mulan says, and Rapunzel nods right along with the sentiment. Then, Mulan's muscles freeze. "Wait," she hinges. "Elinor?" she asks. "As in . . . Merida's—"

"Mother?" Belle guesses. "Yeah. It's why Merida has super strength."

Mulan pales a few shades. "I guess we should consider ourselves lucky she didn't inherit shape shifting," she says.

Anna winces. "Yes and no," she says, and rubs her temple. Her headache is getting worse. "If Merida did have shape shifting Elinor would have trained her and brought her into the League, so she would have been more prepared when shit hit the fan." She sighs. "Maybe she wouldn't have gone crazy if she knew."

Belle looks at Anna, her eyes closing in a slow, thoughtful blink.

"Oh, right," Mulan says, "you knew Merida before the first Incident, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Anna breathes. Her heart aches at the memories. "She was a good kid."

"Elinor didn't tell Merida she was Bear," Belle states, and Anna looks at her.

"She didn't," Anna confirms. "She kept her meta life secret from everyone besides the old Elites and the two demons." At the confused looks she gets, Anna clarifies, "Jen and James' parents. The ultimates."

Mulan's eyes widen. "Those bastards are Hades' _parents?_ " she exclaims.

"Yeah," Anna says, but doesn't speak further. She knows Mulan is aghast at her hero's connection with rapists rather than needing an explanation, because the lineage makes sense. Archangel and Reaper are powerful heaven and hell metas, and so were Athena and Hades.

Mulan hisses and pinches the bridge of her nose with her free hand. "I really need to read over those files," she utters. Ariel squeezes Mulan's hand that's still clasped in her own.

"Okay," Belle says, getting the conversation back on track, "so, if Mulan can't expand her abilities, I'm assuming she will pilot the ship to make sure Rapunzel is always in healing range. If she can expand her ability, then will she put the ship in a safe location so that she can ferry Rapunzel around herself so the ship's manoeuvrability won't become an issue?"

"Basically," Anna says. "I suspect Mulan will only be able to do close range teleportation for other people, so she will have stick to Rapunzel's side. The ship can be put in the control of Vikke in that case, so that a higher vantage point will always be available if Calhoun and I are fighting airborne for prolonged periods of time."

Calhoun raises an eyebrow. "What makes you think we'll fight in the sky?" she asks. "I can't fly."

"I've seen you use your weapons to rocket yourself upwards," Anna deadpans. "Besides," she adds, "I have a feeling your weapon arsenal is a hell'v'a lot bigger than it used to be, so who knows what the hell you're capable of."

Calhoun opens her mouth to argue, then tilts her head, a thoughtful look in her eyes. "That's right," she says. "I forgot about that."

"Forget about what?" Belle asks.

Anna waves a hand in Calhoun's direction. "Her abilities are limited by her physical and mental capabilities," she explains. "Usually this hits a peak and stops," she continues, before Belle can question that very fact, "but Calhoun's case is different, I think." She quirks an empty smile. "Not many become part of an endless network for years on end."

Calhoun grins. "I might be more powerful than you now," she remarks.

"I hope you are," Anna answers sincerely, and Calhoun's amusement falters. Anna turns to Ariel before the conversation can progress further down that road. "You will be the convincing factor," she says. "If all goes as planned, the rest of the League will be watching the battle together somewhere in the base. You will be watching with them. React as if everything is real. When I die, you have to act like I'm dead. Your performance will decide whether the rest of the League believes I'm dead or not."

Ariel worries her bottom lip. "I won't have to act all that much," she admits. Her soft gaze locks with Anna's. "Seeing you in pain will hurt. If I am forced to watch it, all of my reactions will be genuine."

Anna's heart clenches. "I'm sorry," she says, though she's not quite sure why she's apologizing.

Ariel's lips curl into a smile. "No worries," she says. "All of us have hard jobs to do, and I'll do my part. Just—" her voice cracks and her eyes shimmer with unshed tears. "Just make sure you come back."

Affection and pain spreads through Anna's chest. "As an Elite, I can't make any promises," she replies, "but I will try my best." She forces a small smile. "I still have to make those Ambassador bitches pay with my own hands, remember?"

A grin spread over Ariel's lips.

"What's the point of the convincing?" Mulan asks, her eyebrows pinched together. "If the rest of the League members are going to become Elites after Arson's death, then they'll know you're Arson, and that'll defeat the whole purpose."

"When Arson dies, Anna will die, too," Anna answers. Five sets of eyes turn to her in confusion.

Calhoun leans forward. "Maybe you should explain this one from the top," she suggests.

"Okay," Anna agrees, and clears her throat. "Before the battle, I'm going to reveal myself to a couple of the League members, ones that will need the most closure from knowing Arson is gone completely." She turns to Mulan. "At your discretion, you are allowed to reveal base facts and Elite dealings to Jane and Shang, up to even telling them I'm Arson. I doubt they'll take it well. When they don't, act as if they've failed some type of test. If you elaborate, say you were testing if they were ready to be Elites, and that they clearly aren't."

"Well that's manipulative as shit," Belle remarks.

"I'm aware," Anna acknowledges, "but it's the way most guaranteed to make Jane and Shang not tell the rest of the members anything they've learned."

"How do you figure?" Rapunzel asks.

"I'm hoping," Anna says, "that Jane and Shang will realize their missed opportunity and try to prove themselves a different way by not revealing anything Mulan told them."

"But they wouldn't have been made Elites right away even if they did take it well," Belle argues, then frowns. "Right?"

"They don't know that," Anna replies. She raises a halting hand when more questions are spoken. "Can I finish my explanation?" she asks. The room hushes. Anna nods. "Thank you. So, everything will be set up before the battle that everyone knows Arson and I are one and the same, so that when I die it feels more real, especially with Ariel treating what happens in the battle as the be-all and end-all truth.

"After the battle, I won't come around as Anna anymore," Anna continues. "A separate profile will be made for a male meta named Beta Rho, and I will only show myself as Rho until a set time after Arson's death."

Rapunzel purses her lips, a severe edge to her eyes. "We'll still be keeping secrets from everyone even after they become Elites?" she asks.

"Only for a time," Anna assures. "I will reveal myself to the new Elites in turn at the time we agree upon, whether we feel the other heroes are ready to know or not."

Rapunzel nods, but her expression remains pained. "I . . . it makes sense, and I get it," she says, "but I hate the thought of lying to Elsa. God," she hisses, tears misting her eyes. "She was already upset because I didn't talk with her about my hero name change and my Elite promotion. I can only imagine how she'll react once she learns I'm keeping even more from her, even after we're supposed to be on the same page. Fuck, I'll be lucky if she doesn't bite my face off once she finds out."

Ariel leans over and kisses Rapunzel's forehead. "Elsa will understand in time," Ariel whispers.

Rapunzel grits her teeth, and tears mist her eyes. "I know she will," she says, "but I can't say our friendship will be the same after all this."

Anna clenches her jaw. Even after coming back to the League, she's still ruining lives. "I'll tell Elsa first," she states, before she can think over the consequences.

Rapunzel looks at her. Too many emotions swirl in her eyes for Anna to identify.

"Before the battle," Anna clarifies, "I'll make sure I tell Elsa first. I'll remind her that you are actively planning my death with the rest of the Elites, but I can't say if it'll help much."

Rapunzel stares for a couple moments before leaning back in her chair. "You'll ruin your chances with her," she says, a wary set to her shoulders.

"Your friendship with her means more than a fantasy of mine," Anna refutes. Her lips curl in a bitter smile. "It's better for everyone if I don't involve more people in my life than I have to."

Ariel's eyes swim with sorrow. "You deserve a good life and good people to share it with," she says.

"What I deserve is a matter of debate," Anna replies. Ariel's puppy eyes clench Anna's heart, and she sighs. "At this stage of my life I'm at the mercy of a sociopathic opportunist. Involving others in my life puts them under the direct scrutiny of Alpha Alpha. I'd rather avoid the risk of him finding someone I care about."

Silence rings in Anna's ears.

Belle clears her throat. "I'll start the profile for Beta Rho," she says. "What information do you want on it?"

If it was acceptable to kiss someone on the mouth in pure gratitude, Anna would have done it. "Male. Son of Alpha Alpha. Related to Moana. Symbol is red and gold double doors, red door half open. Scope of powers unknown. Appearance unknown."

Belle nods. "Want me to make profiles for Alpha Alpha and Moana, as well?" she asks.

"Yes," Anna says. "Put in everything we know about both of them."

"What will your outfit be as Beta Rho?" Rapunzel asks. "Or do you know yet?"

"Not a clue," Anna replies, and she laughs at herself. "I haven't thought that far ahead yet."

Calhoun rolls her eyes. "Of course you haven't," she says, a teasing lilt to her voice. She smiles. "I'll help you brainstorm."

Anna smiles. "Thank you."

The Elites take a moment to look at each other.

Mulan hums. "Is that everything?" she asks, when no one else speaks up.

Anna shrugs. "Everything that I can think of." Her head throbs and she winces. "Might not mean much with this headache of mine, but I think we've covered the basics."

Calhoun claps her hands. "Alright!" She says. "So I just have one last question." She points to a part of the wall behind the table housing all the files. "Where does that door go?"

Anna's brain fizzes out. She turns around, but she doesn't see anything. "What door?" she asks.

Calhoun points harder. " _That_ door," she says, as if that clarifies everything.

Anna sighs. "There's no door there," she says. "If there was, I'm pretty sure I'd be aware of it."

Calhoun raises an eyebrow. "You're questioning the woman who was in the League system for, what, six years?" she deadpans. Anna crosses her arms over her chest. Calhoun sighs, and gestures to the room. "This room was _created_ as a technology blackout room," she explains. "It wasn't an added feature or something done as a 'oh, right, that might be useful' – it was _purposely_ made to block all electronic signals going in or out.

"Since this base was made when there was only one occupant, that tells me that this room had to be guarding something," Calhoun says. "I memorized the area of this signal block, and this room is smaller than that area." She points back at the wall. "Something over there is missing, and I bet you anything there's a door."

Anna turns to the wall and stares at it. Her head feels like cotton. She walks over and pulls the wall-to-wall table back a meter and jumps over it. She walks to one side of the wall, lays a hand on it, and walks to the other side, feeling for a difference. She doesn't find one.

Anna takes a step back and purses her lips. She knows from experience how well the hidden doors are concealed in the base. Only people who know the exact location of a secret door and the method of opening it can find or get past one.

"Mulan, are there areas past this wall with shadows?" Anna asks.

Mulan eyes Anna. "I couldn't even sense the shadows in this room until I was smack in the middle of it," she says, "so if there is another room, I'm not the person to sense it."

"Punch it," Ariel suggests.

The rest of the Elites turn to stare at her.

"What?" Ariel asks. "I'm serious, punch it."

"Punching a wall will get us nowhere," Anna says.

"I might be fun," Rapunzel pipes in. "You have been having a pretty shitty week, and you know that wall can handle your super strength."

Mulan looks around Ariel to Rapunzel. "Your humour has become very dry," Mulan comments.

"It comes with the territory," Calhoun jests, and juts her chin in Anna's direction. "Between dealing with her and Elite business, it's easy to adopt a pretty dark sense of humour."

Anna narrows her eyes. "Fuck you."

"Rather not," Calhoun says, and smirks when Anna glares. "You might as well just punch the wall. It'll be the only action you'll get from me."

A knot twists in Anna's gut, and she forces herself not to wince. She'd be okay with not 'getting any' for a long time, if ever. She can barely even think about sex without falling into a panic attack.

Unbidden thoughts enter Anna's head and she grits her teeth. She growls and slams her fist into the wall.

Calhoun hoots with laughter behind her.

Tremors run the length of Anna's arm, and her headache screams in protest. Her vision swims. Still, Anna turns her sights down and stares at her knuckles. Heaven magic, her own heaven magic, tingles in her hand. She didn't call upon it. It reacted on its own.

"Uh, Anna?" Rapunzel asks, when Anna doesn't move. "Are you okay?"

Anna jumps back over the table without response and steps back until the whole wall is in her vision. She frowns. How was she going to do this?

Emma had left three of Anna's heaven seals open after she finished repairing the broken seal. The abilities are to sense magical usage, locate magical usage, and track magical trails, only Anna doesn't know how to use them. They had bubbled beneath the surface when Anna punched the wall, but she isn't going to keep punching anything when she's lucky to be standing on her own.

Calhoun is standing by Anna's side now.

"What is it?" Calhoun asks.

"I don't know," Anna says. She looks at Calhoun. "You wouldn't happen to have any advice on how to use heaven abilities, would you?"

Calhoun blinks. "Uh, no," she says. Before she can question why, she's interrupted by:

"I still think you're trying too hard to use them," Ariel remarks. "It's like trying to force yourself to poop when all you have to do is relax the muscles and it'll come right out."

Rapunzel chokes on her own spit and wheezing laughter bellows from her lips.

Anna turns around and raises an eyebrow at Ariel. "Are you suggesting I poop on it?" she asks.

Ariel giggles. "You know I'm not."

"Definitely poop on it," Calhoun says, speaking over Ariel. "Use your hand to smear it in, too."

Belle's lips curl at the thought. "Ew," she says.

"I'm with Belle," Anna says. "That's gross."

"You're gross," Calhoun counters.

Anna laughs, and for once it's inspired by genuine amusement. It lessens the ache in her chest. "Okay, asshole," she japes.

Calhoun grins, curls a hand into a fist, and bops her knuckles into Anna's forehead. Anna slaps the hand away, but she chuckles all the same. Behind them, Belle huffs out a soft breath of air.

"So, do you suppose there's a door over there or not?" Belle asks.

"Hm?" Anna hums, then shrugs when the question registers. "Dunno," she says. "I wanted to look at it with one of my heaven abilities active, but fuck if I know how to use them."

Ariel tilts her head. "You can summon Athena's spear," she says. "That's a heaven ability."

"Not the one I need, but yes," Anna consents. She rubs the back of her neck. "My other heaven abilities flared when I punched the wall, and I know it wasn't me activating them. I was hoping I'd be able to figure out why by using them but, surprise, I don't know how."

Ariel blinks. "Punching the wall actually worked?" she asks.

"Punch it again," Mulan suggests.

"And risk upgrading to a migraine? No thanks," Anna says.

Rapunzel taps her fingers softly on the table. "I don't think you'll be able to figure it out on your own," she says.

Anna's eyebrows fall into an unamused line. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," she drones.

"I don't mean it like that," Rapunzel says. "I mean that all you've ever known is regular and hell abilities. You don't have any mental or muscle memory to guide you on the right track. You don't know what you're looking for or what it will feel like when you find it. You need guidance."

Anna sinks into her chair and slouches. "I'm not asking _her_ to be my teacher," she says. "I'm not. I refuse."

Rapunzel shuffles. She stands and walks to Anna's side. With notable hesitance she places her hand on the back of Anna's neck. Anna stills under the touch.

"I understand," Rapunzel says, "and I'm not suggesting you do. I'm just saying that _she_ isn't the only heaven meta you know."

Anna tilts her head and looks Rapunzel in the eye. She takes a moment to think. "I doubt Moana will come back anytime soon," she says, "and you barely have a grasp on your own heaven powers."

"That's true," Rapunzel says, "but now I know how to access my heaven ability. I need to train in it, obviously, but I'm not stuck at a stalemate like you."

Anna quirks a small smile. "Are you offering to teach me?" she asks. It isn't a serious question.

"No," Rapunzel hinges. "I'm offering to do something you don't want me to do."

Anna narrows her eyes. "How do you mean?"

"You need to know what heaven magic feels like," Rapunzel says, "and I have heaven magic that can literally go inside other people when I use it."

Anna's eyes harden, and she opens her mouth to refuse—

"She wants to be inside you," Ariel says, and Anna's mind goes blank.

Calhoun and Mulan laugh, though Mulan more hesitantly than Calhoun. Belle bites her lip, her features warring between amused and concerned. Rapunzel seizes the opportunity.

Magic warms Anna's neck and tingles along her spine, and she gasps. The sensation overwhelms her and she jerks away, snatching Rapunzel's wrist and shoving it away from her.

"I told you not to use magic until your powers recovered," Anna snarls, harsher than she intends.

Rapunzel's expression darkens. "I'm trying to help you," she clips.

"Yeah, well guess what?" Anna snaps. Something catches Anna's eye and she turns. Her eyebrows raise. A ball of golden magic with pulsing outward lines fills her vision, and then it's gone, replaced by the bare wall she'd punched earlier.

"Never mind," Anna says, huffing a bemused laugh. "It worked."

Rapunzel, having expected a lashing, stares at Anna in shock. "Wait, what?"

"Yeah, fucking ridiculous, right?" Anna chuckles, and shakes her head. "I guess that means your idea of helping me use my heaven abilities aren't half cocked."

The backlash of using that magic, though, is hitting Anna hard, and she has to close her eyes to keep the room from spinning. She hopes her body is actually capable housing active heaven and hell abilities, or else she's fucked.

"Did you see anything?" Ariel asks. Anna cracks open an eye, just in time to see Ariel do an excited little wiggle.

Anna smiles. "I saw something," she says. "Can't say for certain what it was, but it was big."

Calhoun hums. "Can you wager a guess?" she asks.

The room tilts in Anna's vision and she closes her eye. "I'd avoid making any conclusive deductions until we know more," she says, "but if I _had_ to guess . . . Ariel, do you remember when we were in the vents? You asked me a question."

Ariel makes a noise at the back of her throat. "I asked a lot of questions," she says, "many of which you didn't answer."

"You asked if the base was powered by hydro," Anna clarifies, "and I said yes."

"Oh, yeah, I remember that," Ariel says. "What about it?"

Anna quirks a hollow smile. "This base doesn't make enough hydro power to cover the amount of energy we use," she says, "yet we always have more energy than we need. I never knew why. Now I think I do." She risks cracking open her eyes, and she focuses on one of the double images of Ariel. "It might be powered by magic."


	26. Tough Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N** : Thanks again to Waela (FFnet), Elsannity (FFnet), and Justherefortheride (FFnet) for betaing my work.
> 
> As an update, the "Elsanna" tag has been removed. Elsanna will remain an aspect of this story regardless, but the tag appears to be overstating how prominent that relationship is going to be. Please keep this in mind if you decide to continue reading, and thank you in advance for those who do.
> 
> * * *

Three and a Half Years Ago 

"Open this door right fucking now or I'll rip it off its hinges, Mathew!" Megara bellows. Her face and neck are flushed with rage, and her fists tremble with adrenaline.

Mathew, Megara's stepfather, opens the front door of her mom's old place.

Mathew is a man of average height with pitch black curly hair, hazel eyes, and more tattoos than clothes. Both his arms, his neck, most of his upper chest, and his legs are covered only in ink. Megara once idolized those tattoos. Now she loathes them.

A slimy grin slithers over Mathew's lips. "Hello little birdie," he says, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame. "You here to congratulate me?"

"Fuck you!" Megara spits, and shoves him several meters into the house. She walks in after him, and slams the door shut behind her with a _bang!_ The door and its supports shatter and fly into the yard.

Mathew chuckles and swipes at the nonexistent dust on his shoulder. "Someone will call the police over that," he chuckles, but they both know it's a lie. The police are too busy dealing with public panic over South Carolina. Too busy dealing with the fallout of the civilian launched bombs the League wasn't able to stop. The police won't care about a smashed door and raised voices.

"How did you get out?" Megara growls. Her eyes glint with ire and her muscles twitch with instincts that could rip Mathew to shreds, but he doesn't look concerned.

"Arson's still alive," Mathew drawls, as if that explains everything, and walks into the kitchen. Megara follows him. "Some copper higher ups figured a meta of my prestige is better fight'n an insane Elite than rotting in a cell." He smirks and pours himself a glass of whiskey.

Veins pop in Megara's neck and she snarls like a rabid beast. This time, her fury makes Mathew pause. He sighs and sets down his glass.

"It's noth'n personal, pipsqueak," Mathew says. "I told you I'd remain in jail until I got sentenced and I was do'n just that, but then a copper came and opened my cell and said I was free to go so long as I applied for the League's open recruitment. That ain't exactly an offer you pass up."

"Yes it is!" Megara roars, spittle flying from her mouth. "You're a fucking murderer!"

Mathew's eyes harden. "Babe," he says, "so is Arson."

"I'll be one, too, if you don't get back in that fucking cell," Megara warns in a low growl. She takes an aggressive step forward.

"Damn it, Meg," Mathew says with a disapproving sneer. "The courts don't have time to process me with all the crime going on, and they don't fuck'n want to. They don't see the point trying to pass judgement on a meta when they know they can't do a damn thing to stop me if I decided to fuck off." He waves a hand at the window. "Normal people can't hold people like us accountable, and the Elites who once regulated all this are gone. Now they need people like me to restore order."

"Don't you spit that shit at me," Megara snarls. She advances on her stepdad and shoves a finger into his chest. She feels one of his ribs crack under the pressure. "I know the only reason you let yourself get locked away is because you didn't want to face judgement from me. You _knew_ I'd come after you if you didn't own up to what you did. You weren't in jail because you're honourable, you were there because you were scared." She scowls and leans in. "And you're only out now because you're hoping to get protection from the League."

Mathew winces and tries to skirt Megara's finger, but she doesn't let him. She presses in harder, and the fractured rib breaks.

"Fuck!" Mathew hisses, with a wince that might make Megara feel bad if she didn't know better.

"Tell. The League. No," Megara growls.

"I already met with Shadow!" Mathew snaps. "She had the League AI run a check on me. Shadow wasn't happy with some of my history, but I'd done enough good or someth'n and got in." His lips upturn into a cocky, voracious smile. "I've been a good little pup according to them, Meggy."

Something snaps in Megara's brain and she slams her fist into Mathew's gut, or attempts to. He twists around Megara's finger and flips out of the way, like the martial artist show-off he is. In his stead, the sink gets the brunt of Megara's anger and it, along with half the wall, flies into the air and crash into houses five or six plots over.

Mathew _tsk_ s and lowers himself into a fighting stance. "If the police don't come, the League certainly will."

"Shut up, _shut up!_ " Megara hollers. She poises herself to attack but before she does she takes a long, calming breath, and laughs. The same type of unhinged laughter that Mathew used the night he killed Megara's mother. She tries not to think about the similarities.

"A life for a life," Megara murmurs, a grin splitting her lips. "That sounds like justice. Murdering a murderer. Don't you agree?"

Mathew huffs a short, airy laugh. "Babe, I'm the last person you should be looking to for morals," he says, then his lips curl into a dangerous smile. "Though I must admit, it seems as if you already have."

"I'm nothing like you!" Megara bellows, and charges Mathew.

"You're _everything_ I am!" Mathew exclaims, roaring with laughter. He dodges Megara's wild swings with ease and dances around her. "I raised you from a little crying pup, begging for her poor dead pa, and as much as you hate to admit it, you loved the void I filled. You loved having two parents again. You loved _me_."

Rage coils in Megara's gut, but the years of training Mathew drilled into her brain kicks in, and she takes a mental step back. Then slams her foot into the floor. The entirety of the first story shatters and the basement cement explodes outwards into the surrounding ground. Pipes burst. Sparking electrical wires hang loose.

The crater in the ground starts filling with water, and Megara splashes into it feet first. Mathew does the same.

"And you have the temper to match," Mathew chuckles, but there's an uneasy edge to his posture now, and his eyes keep flicking upwards. Megara suspects he's waiting for the League to aid him, but she doubts any of them are coming. The League has its hands full with more pressing matters than a recruit who'd allegedly fought Arson and lived to tell the tale. If anything, they probably expect him to deal with this situation on his own.

"So, if I'm getting your jest, _Matt_ ," Megara spits, and starts counting on her fingers. "I have a temper like you, I have no morals like you, and I have super strength like you. Which means"—she laughs—"we are exactly the same in every manner except one." Her lips curl into a vicious smile. "I'm ten times more powerful than you are."

Mathew chortles. "Strength don't mean noth'n," he says. "If it did, your ma wouldn't be dead."

Tears burn in Megara's eyes. Her mother was a powerful strength meta like herself, but Josie couldn't bring herself to harm Mathew when he turned on her. She died because she loved someone she shouldn't have, and her killer is still alive because Megara herself loved the same monster.

"Fuck you," Megara grits, but her voice wavers, and she hates herself for it. She doesn't want Mathew to see how much that still affects her.

Mathew grins. "I'd love ta fuck you, sweetheart," he says, "but I'm afraid you'd try to kill me in the process."

An indignant snarl twists Megara's lips, and her heart goes cold. "I'll kill you right now and save both of us the trouble," she growls, more bestial than human. She cracks her neck and flexes her fingers, then flashes Mathew an icy smile. "Don't worry, I won't make it quick."

"Keep'n me alive longer than you have to allows for a huge margin for error, kid," Mathew says, and angles himself into an offensive fighting stance.

"Don't I fucking know it," Megara grumbles, and raises her fists.

Mathew smirks. "You know," he says when Megara doesn't attack right away, "I coulda joined Arson instead of stay'n in jail."

Megara scowls. "You'd run a higher risk of death with her than with me," she spits.

"Which is part of the reason I declined her offer," Mathew says, and laughs. "If we didn't have history I bet she woulda killed me for turning her down with how fuck'n crazy she is now." He tilts his head. "Or maybe that'd make her more likely to kill me. It's hard to say. Her killing don't have much logic nowadays."

Megara's eyes flash and she curls her lips. Mathew has history with Arson, and they went crazy around the same time? That doesn't sound like a coincidence. "You were in on the Ambassador Incident together," she accuses.

"In a loose sense of the word, sure," Mathew allows, but doesn't provide another explanation. He looks into Megara's eyes, and his features go grim. "But enough about that. Let's end this, shall we?" He straightens and presses his fists together in front of his chest. "God force."

A charged shockwave booms off Mathew and throws Megara into the side of the crater. The empty household husk above creaks and threatens to fall.

Megara shakes the stars from her vision and pushes herself upright. She glances at her stepfather, and her heart stutters in her chest. Glowing blue eyes stare back at her, and a massive battle hammer is held in his hands.

"Odin," Megara whispers, and starts questioning who's really stronger between them. "You're Odin."

Laughter booms from Mathew's lips, a deep echo backing his voice that makes him sound otherworldly. "Aye, child, I am Odin."

"You were a casual Elite," Megara says, as if saying it will make the impossible more real. It doesn't.

"Don't mix your information, kid," Mathew chuckles. It's a horrible sound. "The Elites were an exclusive club for full time heroes. I didn't even have access to the League base! I was a glorified freelancer, at best, along with your mother. Can you guess who she was?" A devilish grin splits his lips. "Or how many people she'd killed?"

Megara's heart stutters in her chest. This is so fucked up. It wasn't supposed to be this convoluted, this _gray_. Mathew is evil. Period. Josie was innocent. Period. If Mathew is Odin then Odin is evil, and evil people must die.

"Fuck you!" Megara roars. "I'm not listening to you anymore!"

"Her name was Hercules!" Odin shouts, his features glinting with gleeful malice. "It just goes to show, not even heroes can stand up to a God."

A war cry rips from Megara's lungs and she pushes off with enough force to splinter the ground like a minor explosion would have. She smashes into Odin with the momentum of a bullet, and the shockwave sends the house above crumbling towards them.

Odin holds his ground, keeping Megara at bay with his hammer. Blue smoke hisses from his glowing eyes, and he grins. "Yes," he rumbles, "fight me like you mean it. Fight me like your dear ma refused to. Give me a fight worth having!"

Megara _roars_ and swings her fist in a brutal uppercut faster than the eye can see. Odin blocks the attack with his hammer, but it doesn't stop him from getting thrown into the air, smashing through the falling debris and beyond. Megara leaps after him. She doesn't give herself time to mourn the destruction of her childhood home. She's sure Josie would understand.

"Watch your flank!" Odin hoots, swinging his hammer before Megara has time to throw the shingles from her head. The attack lands with a solid _crack_ against the back of Megara's skull, and she is sent crashing into the street below. The pavement shatters on impact, and anything—or anyone—within a twenty meter radius is thrown back. Megara's pretty sure someone died.

Megara's vision swirls and wavers in and out of focus, but she has enough sense left in her to leap out of the way. Sure enough Odin lands behind her, hammer first. Megara digs her feet and fingers into the ground to keep the shockwave from throwing her away.

"You disappoint me, babe," Odin chuckles, spinning his battle hammer around him in a show of skill. "Where's all that training your ma and I gave you? We didn't waste our time on you for you to flush everything we taught you down the toilet."

Megara bristles, and she whirls on Odin with fire in her eyes. "Mom and I didn't accept you into the family for you to rip us apart, but that didn't stop you!" She stands and punches her fists together. "Come get me, fucker," she spits through gritted teeth.

Odin laughs and leaps forward. He cocks his hammer back and swings it at Megara's head.

Megara roars, spittle flying from her mouth. She turns and punches out, her knuckles colliding with the flat of the hammer aimed at her head. Another shockwave bursts outward and, with a sharp series of _crack_ s, Odin's hammer shatters in a show of blinding blue light. Through the spots in her vision, Megara lashes out and grabs Odin by the throat. A strike to the forearm sends her hand off its mark, and Megara bellows in rage at the loss.

When her vision in back to normal, Megara finds herself facing not Odin, but Mathew. Mathew stares at her with normal eyes—the radiant blue misting away—and a wild grin.

"It's been a long while since a meta destroyed my hammer like that," Mathew chuckles, dark and low.

Megara stares at Mathew for a long couple of seconds, and then a slow, predatory grin spreads over her lips. "Your extra power is tied to that summoning," she says, then laughs. "How long until you can do it again?"

Mathew chuckles. "I can't tell you all my secrets," he says.

Megara cracks her neck. "Then I guess I shouldn't dawdle," she says. If his hammer has been broken before and he still has it, Megara suspects it's an energy weapon that can never truly be destroyed. If that's the case, she needs to take Mathew out before he can make a repeat performance.

This time Megara doesn't forget her training, and when she lashes out Mathew doesn't try to block her, only dodge and retreat.

"You can't run forever!" Megara shouts, and sends a roundhouse kick into Mathew's knee. It shatters on impact and nearly severs the bottom half of his leg. Sharp bone protrudes from the skin.

Mathew screams and collapses onto his rear. He reaches forward to cradle his knee before thinking better of it and bringing his fists together in front of his chest. Megara grabs his wrists with enough force to crush the bones and then wrenches the hands apart.

"Not this time," Megara snarls, her eyes alight with victory. She kneels beside the wailing meta and pushes him onto his back. She cocks her fist. "This is for all the suffering you've caused me."

Mathew stops shrieking long enough to look Megara in the eye with a defiance she hadn't expected. "Yeah," Mathew spits, before his lips split in a manic grin. "But didn't you have it coming?"

The phrasing strikes Megara as so bizarre that, for a moment, she only blinks down at her stepfather. Then the moment passes, and her eyes harden once more. "Whatever, asshole," she says, and sends her fist into Mathew's skull. Brain matter and bone splatter over the broken pavement, and Megara sits back on her heels. In the silence she takes a deep breath and smiles, but it isn't kind. "If you were a god," she murmurs, "then it's a good thing I'm not a hero."

Megara stands and looks around her. Houses and private property have been demolished in the immediate area, and sirens wail in the background. Mathew was right about that, at least, but Megara doesn't plan to stick around for the cops.

Megara walks over the broken pavement towards the road that hasn't been affected by the battle. She's aware that she's covered in blood and should probably wash it off, but right now she couldn't be bothered.

" _Halt!_ "

With a sigh, Megara tilts her head to the sky. She hadn't expected law enforcement so soon. "I don't want to hurt you," she says to the clouds. "Just let me go."

"Not a chance," a cold voice snaps, and Megara frowns. She recognizes that voice.

Megara turns around and freezes. Before her stands General and Blizzard, glaring at her from behind their helms.

 _Scratch that_ , Megara thinks. _Mathew was right about two things_.

Megara raises her hands to shoulder level in surrender. "I have no intention of causing you any further trouble," she says, though she isn't quite sure that's true. She nods her head to the wreck behind the Protectors. "I had a personal vendetta against the man I fought. He killed my mother."

Blizzard narrows her eyes. "And you killed more than one man in that fight," she spits, and Megara can almost feel the daggers the hero is glaring into her. "And by us being diverted to you, even _more_ people are going to die. So congratulations, your one man vendetta cost hundreds of people their lives."

"Blizzard," General warns, but he doesn't elaborate.

Megara frowns and glances between Blizzard and General. General, she remembers, is a strength meta with a defy death ability, or something of the like, and Blizzard has been known to freeze over areas larger than several city blocks. Megara can't win a fight against these two.

Keeping her actions slow and unaggressive, Megara points to Mathew's body. "That man was a strength meta, slated to join the Protector ranks, correct?" she asks.

Blizzards eyes flash and her feet slide into a bracing position. "You have no right to be asking questions," she grits.

"I'm just saying," Megara says, keeping her voice as calm as she can, "that with him dead, you'll need another strength meta as strong as his 'god mode' was, won't you?"

Blizzard stares into Megara's eyes, holding her captive, and Megara's breath stutters in her throat. There's a dangerous glint in those icy blue irises, one that threatens immediate retaliation for any false move. But Megara can also see the dark circles under Blizzard's eyes, and part of her wonders if the Protector has slept at all the last couple of days.

"Arson is still out there, and I doubt she'll stop at South Carolina," Megara continues. "You need more metas, and I'm trained. I also _hate_ Arson." She spits the name. " _She's_ the reason Mathew killed my mom, _she's_ the reason Mathew was let out of prison, and she has to pay for what she's done." Megara meets Blizzard's glare with an equal one of her own. "If you'll let me, I'll help you rip that bitch apart."

Blizzard's hand twitch, and her fingers curl into fists. "Calhoun, run a history check," she says, then straightens. "What's your name?"

"Megara Hollandale," Megara says, and lowers her hands. "But you can call me Hercules."

Blizzard growls in Megara's general direction, then turns heel and starts walking the other way. "I know who you are now, Megara Hollandale," she says. Megara thinks it odd for the hero to repeat her full name, but that may be for the benefit of whoever this Calhoun is. "Your name was on Odin's file." She leaps into the air and lands on a small ramp of an aircraft Megara's never seen before. "Get on," she clips. "If you want to join, I need to drop you off somewhere."

Megara glances to General, who eyes her with suspicion but follows Blizzard's direction regardless. Soon all three of them are on what Megara guesses is a League transport, and they're flying to whatever destination Blizzard mentioned earlier. Neither Blizzard or General sit, so Megara doesn't either. After a while she notices that choice is making the heroes uneasy, so she takes a seat on one of the long benches.

"So, where are we going?" Megara asks, after a few minutes of silence.

"First stop is my deployment," Blizzard grunts. Her cold eyes snap to Megara. "If you harm any Protector in my absence, I _will_ destroy you."

Megara raises her hands in surrender once more. "I have no intention of getting on the Protectors' bad side," she says, and means it. Even without the Elites, the League isn't a force to be trifled with.

General glances between the two women, but doesn't interject.

Blizzard ducks her head in a curt nod. "Good," she says, and walks out of the room.

General relaxes and takes a seat across from Megara. "Let her eat before trying to ask any more questions, please," he says. "Talking to her before then won't do you any favours."

Megara nods. She can understand that. "It's been tough lately, hasn't it?" she asks, even though she already knows.

General sighs and leans his gladiator helmed head against the wall behind him. "Yeah," he airs. "The League was set up to protect regular citizens against metas, not to protect them against themselves." He shakes his head. "Shadow believes it's our responsibility to help regardless, because it's our battle with Arson that started all of this."

Megara sounds a noncommittal hum. She already knows all of this, but she doesn't want to ruin her chances with the League by saying something careless. If she does, she isn't sure what will happen to her. With the old Elites, problem metas had a way of disappearing. Megara wonders if that's still the case now that they're dead.

General shrugs into the silence and crosses his arms over his armoured chest. "We can't keep this up forever," he says. "Eventually Arson will need to show up and make countries less trigger happy against each other, or we'll have to make a choice. Neither option is optimal."

Megara wonders how that logic works, but doesn't ask. This is the League she's dealing with; they probably have plans for days.

"How are you holding up?" Megara asks instead. "You look like you might need food and water, too."

Through the slit in the front of General's helm, Megara can see him smile. "I'd prefer rest, but thank you for your concern," he says. He tilts his head and stares at her with a thoughtful look. "Hercules, huh?" he asks. Megara nods. General frowns. "That name already belongs to another meta."

"My mom," Megara says. "And she's dead."

General blinks, then his eyebrows furrow. "Odin killed Hercules?" he murmurs to himself, as if it doesn't make any sense.

"After the Ambassador Incident," Megara says, and then frowns. "They worked for the League. You should know that."

General shakes his head, looking dazed. "They worked for the Elites, not us. We only saw them around every now and again."

Megara's frown deepens. "But surely you knew," she says. "Blizzard said you had a profile on him."

"A civilian profile," General corrects. "All names on it other than Odin's were civilian names. Hercules was never mentioned in it."

A vein pulses in Megara's forehead, and she resists the urge to punch something. "If you didn't know, does that mean the Elites didn't know either?"

General forces a strained smile. "I don't know," he says. "The Elites weren't forthcoming on a great many things."

Before Megara can ask anything else, Blizzard stalks back into the cargo hold. General's back straightens.

"Did you eat enough?" he asks.

"No," Blizzard snaps, and glances to the back of the bay as the ramp lowers. "Nor do I have time." Thin glider wings of smooth ice materialize on Blizzard's back, and she stretches them before folding them against her back. "Give Shadow my regards." She turns to General with a grim set to her eyes. "Tell her we can't keep this up."

Blizzard bolts before General can answer and leaps out of the still moving transport. Megara watches as Blizzard snaps open her wings a second before she latches onto a moving missile, and then they're both gone. A few seconds later sounds a distant explosion.

General walks down the ramp, holds onto a handle, and looks around the corner. "You good, Blizzard?" he asks. A pause. He nods to himself. "It exploded far enough up that it didn't cause any damage. Good job." The transport starts banking. "We're coming around for you. No complaining." General leans back and braces himself. Megara herself has to grip the bench seat just shy of the metal's breaking point to stay in place.

After a series of manoeuvres that leaves Megara sick to the stomach, Blizzard flies in through the open bay door and skids to a stop. Megara stares at her.

Blizzard's icy armour is blackened, and pieces of shrapnel stick out of it. Blood is dripping into her left eye.

"Another transport would have picked me up," Blizzard says, after taking a moment to catch her breath.

"Calhoun's in charge of flying this thing, not me," General says, walking towards Blizzard as the ramp closes. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," Blizzard spits. She moves to wipe the blood from her eye, but she touches her helm instead. She growls, frustrated tears burning in her eyes, before she turns heel and stomps into another area of the ship. General sighs.

The trip is silent after that.

When the transport slows and the ramp lowers, Megara sends a searching look at General. She doesn't want to be the one to speak first.

General nods down the ramp. "Go on. There's nothing here besides another recruit," he says. His eyes turn hard. "Don't kill this one, or you'll regret it."

Megara twitches a nervous smile. She doesn't doubt that. "Sure," she says, and stands. She walks towards the grass at the end of the ramp, but hesitates before she leaves the transport. She turns around. "If you're not coming, who is?"

"Shadow," General says in a tone that asks, 'who else would it be?'

"Right," Megara murmurs, and steps off the ramp. The ship is rising and rocketing away before Megara can get even ten steps away from it, but a part of her is relieved by its absence. _Part_ of her.

Megara turns around in circles, wondering where the fuck the Protectors dropped her off. A hilly island in the middle of the ocean? Megara's eyebrows fall into an unamused line. She wouldn't doubt if this was the League's murder island.

Shading her eyes against the light, Megara tilts her head back to examine some of the larger rocky hills. And almost jumps out of her skin when her eyes connect with someone else's. They don't wave, or nod, or acknowledge Megara in any way other than with a piercing stare.

With a hum, Megara sprints and leaps, launching herself into the air. She lands behind the other woman and turns to face her. The woman narrows her eyes and straightens her back. Megara notes the defensive angle of her feet . . . and the dried blood caked to the bottom half of her face.

Megara blinks and reaches out, but the woman steps back. Megara hesitates and lowers her hand to the appropriate height for a handshake. "Megara," she says. When the woman doesn't take her hand, Megara drops it completely. "You're hurt," she continues. "You need to get checked out." She frowns. "Or not, I guess? The League has a healer now, but I don't know how good they are."

The woman bobs her head in a slow nod and mutters, "English." Before Megara has time to be confused, the woman extends a fist. "Kidagakash Natarah," she says in what almost sounds like another language, and then she quirks a half smile. "But you can call me Kida. It's easier for you to pronounce."

Megara nods, dumbfounded, and raises her own fist. She stares between hers and Kida's. She is unfamiliar with this greeting.

Kida smiles and taps her fist against Megara's, then uncurls her fingers. Megara does the same. Kida slides her fingers in-between Megara's and laces them together. It's oddly intimate, and Megara doesn't know what to think of it.

"Well met," Kida says, and releases her grip. The absence leaves Megara's fingers tingling.

"Uh, yeah, hello," Megara says. She rubs the back of her neck and awkwardly waves a hand at Kida's nose. "So, what happened? Did a Protector hit you?"

Kida's eyebrows fall into an unamused line at the reminder. "No, I punched myself."

For a second, Megara can only stare. "Um, why?" she asks.

Kida shrugs, as if it isn't that big a deal. "I told myself I would," she says, but doesn't elaborate.

"Okay then," Megara airs. She drums her fingers on the side of her neck. "I like your tattoo," she says, and winces at herself. She sucks at small talk.

"Oh," Kida airs, and runs her fingers over the blue lightning bolt. "Thank you, but it's not a tattoo, it's a birthmark."

"Birthmark?" Megara questions with a frown. "How is that possible?"

Kida sends Megara a look that makes the strength meta feel like a buffoon. "I'm not human, Meg," she says, and Megara's heart skips a beat, though she not sure if it was the information or the nickname that did it. "Being born with blue face markings is"—she frowns—" _somewhat_ common among Asgardians, though it's more prominent in the royal lines."

"Lines, plural?" Megara asks, before her eyes widen. "Are _you_ royal?"

Kida shifts, an uncomfortable look on her face. "So long as the Old God doesn't rescind my status, yes," she says. "I'm a princess in the Natarah quadrant."

 _So different royals control different quadrants, I guess_ , Megara thinks, putting together what little information she has. "Who's the Old God?" she asks, and grins. "Some cranky old figurehead who doesn't have the right to interfere in anything but does anyway to piss everybody off?"

Kida's expression turns sour. "Can we not talk about this?" she says. "The Old God is a touchy subject among royals."

Megara's smile slips. "Sure," she says. Megara scuffs her shoes on the ground, willing her courage back up. "If this isn't a touchy subject," she says, considering, "why is an Asguardian royal—"

"Asgardian," Kida corrects.

Megara stares. "That's what I said, isn't it?"

Kida frowns. "Mild mispronunciation. It bugged me." As an afterthought she adds, "Sorry."

Something in Kida's eyes makes Megara vow to herself that she'll figure out how to say it right. Out loud she clears her throat and says, "That's fine. Uhh, well, what was I saying?" She pauses to think. "Oh, right, why is a royal here, of all places?" She frowns. "This isn't exactly a peaceful planet right now."

Kida's eyes harden, but she doesn't shoot down Megara's curiosity this time. "I don't know, exactly," she says. "I thought it was a diplomatic experience of sorts, but I see now that a lot was left out of my mission briefing."

The sharp edge the topic brings to Kida's eyes gives Megara the hint to leave _that_ subject alone.

"So you came here," Megara says, "realized Earth is going to shit, and your first instinct was to seek out the Protector League and answer the open recruitment?" She chuckles. "You have guts, I'll tell you that."

The tension in Kida's shoulders ease, and she smiles. "I didn't think I was ever missing my internal organs, but thank you."

Megara bursts into surprised laughter, and she pats Kida on the shoulder. "You're alright, kid," she says, and instant horror paralyzes her. That's something Mathew would say.

Kida stares at her, a curious light to her eyes. "Are you okay?"

Megara opens her mouth, but finds she can't speak. She swallows, but it doesn't loosen the knot in her throat.

Kida tilts her head, then glances to Megara's arms. "You know," she says, her tone careful and even, "I wasn't going to mention it before, but I'm not the only one to needs to clean blood off myself." She flashes Megara a cheeky smile. "Did you punch yourself, too?"

Laughter bubbles in Megara's lungs and she chuckles, finding the tightness in her chest loosening. "Something like that," she says. A soft smile spreads over her lips and she gestures towards the ocean. "Unless the Protectors guard this island with killer meta marine life, I'm sure we can clean up before Shadow arrives."

Kida laughs. "If such countermeasures are in play, I can assure you they won't work on me," she chortles, and starts hopping from ledge to ledge to get down the hill. "Let's go get presentable!"

Megara crushes her instinct to say 'you already are' and follows the path the alien princess took before her.

* * *

Present Day 

All the non-Elite members sit in the briefing room. Elsa sits at the head of the table with a hard expression and her arms crossed tightly across her chest. She hasn't been well after learning of Rapunzel's secret promotion and name change, even more so considering Rapunzel hadn't—and still hasn't—taken the time to talk to her about it. The most Elsa's been able to squeeze out of her best friend is a strained, 'I'm sorry, I'm busy' and 'I swear I'll talk to you later, but I can't right now.'

What bugs Megara more is the fact that the _former_ leader of the League was promoted while the _current_ leader sits powerless in front of her. It would make sense if the promotions involved all the old junior Leaguers, but it didn't, and the confusion of it leaves Megara seething.

"We have every right to go after Arson, too!" Merida roars, continuing the rant she's been on for—Megara checks the time—twenty minutes. "Who the fuck does Calhoun think she is, only letting _some_ of us deal with the demon that's been tormenting _all of us?_ " She grabs her chair with a shout and hurls it against the wall. "How dare she take this from us! How _dare_ she!"

"Enough, Merida," Elsa snaps, her gaze boring into the bowman. "I've spoken with Ariel—because at least _one_ Elite will fucking talk to me—and she says the plan requires a small team. Any interference from us will be met with brutal force to ensure mission success."

"Brutal force?" Merida spits. " _I'll_ show them brutal fucking force!"

"I said enough!" Elsa bellows, and Merida clamps her jaw shut. Elsa closes her eyes and tilts her head towards the ceiling. "We already had a taste of what the new Elites are willing to do thanks to the fight in the med bay. And no," she says, before Kida can speak up, "Axe still hasn't recovered." She flashes a bitter smile. " _Crossroads_ hasn't had time to heal her yet."

Kida winces at Elsa's tone. "I'm sure there's a good reason," she tries to rationalize.

"I'm sure there is," Elsa spits.

Kida sighs. "During the fight, Rapunzel wasn't healing _herself_ , let alone anyone else," she says. "So it may be more accurate to assume she _can't_ heal anyone right now rather than she doesn't want to."

Elsa takes in a deep breath and opens her eyes, but she doesn't take her sight from the ceiling. "If that's the case, why didn't she tell me?" she whispers. "Rapunzel and I—" Tears burn her eyes and she grits her teeth. "Why would she keep that from me?"

"If Calhoun really was a member of the old Elites," Jane says, "it's possible she's enforcing the same sort of information distribution policy as the old Elites, which was basically 'never tell'." She takes a moment to think. "Anna could be a factor in that, too, considering her history."

Just that woman's name makes Megara's chest flare with anger, and she scowls. "I don't understand how a civilian gets access to those Elite meetings and we don't."

"She's always had access," Jane says, picking at her fingernails. "The only difference is that, in recent years, there haven't been any meetings for her to join." She sends Megara a look to shut down her retort. "Anna's been a part of the League longer than Mulan," she goes on to explain, "and she was an Elite before Calhoun, Black Dragon, or even Bear. Besides," she adds, going back to her nails, "with Anna's new abilities, it isn't out of the question that she might become a Leaguer herself."

"I would sooner kill her," Megara says, before she can stop herself.

Jane huffs out a harsh breath. "If she hospitalized you without proper meta training, I wouldn't recommend you go at her again when she does," she says. "Especially not if she masters Athena's spear."

"Not to mention Ariel would slaughter you if you try anything in the meantime," Esmeralda pipes in. When every eye sans Elsa's turns her way, she explains, "I felt it after the battle in the med bay. Ariel loves Anna, Rapunzel, and, to some extent, Calhoun, with a fierceness that overrides her forgiving nature. If you attack any one of those three—and I bet Belle and Mulan will join that number soon enough—then you'll have to deal with her."

Megara grits her teeth. "So long as she doesn't have her trident"—and that _stupid_ ability it grants her—"then—"

"Then, in this group, only Elsa, Kida, or I have a reasonable chance against her," Esmeralda refutes. She looks Megara dead in the eye. "But if she really wanted to kill us, she'd summon enough water to turn this place into a glorified fish tank because she knows we can't win in her element. Period." She turns to Elsa. "Only Elsa might be able to survive that, but it'd be just that – surviving. If Ariel happened to have her trident, we'd be dead metas walking."

Megara grits her teeth but doesn't answer.

Ariel's trident eliminates the only major weakness the marine meta might have had: fighting in an environment without water. So long as Ariel has that weapon on her, it allows her to control air the same way she controls water, and she can expand those alternate physics to just around herself, just around other people, or entire areas.

So, as far as Megara's concerned, that trident makes Ariel the strongest meta in the League. Megara would go so far as to say 'the most dangerous', but the marine alien is oftentimes too loving to be a considerable threat.

"It doesn't matter," Elsa airs. She shakes her head and turns her attention to the others at the table. "While the Elites are dealing with Arson, we're in charge of figuring out more about this"—she waves a hand in the air—"tainted-hellfire-smoke-but-not-really issue, along with responding to any villain attacks that crop up."

"Mm, that's nothing new," Jane murmurs. Louder, she asks, "Has Anna talked to Sandman yet?"

"No," Elsa says. She pinches the bridge of her nose. "She was released from the backup med bay this morning and was pulled into an Elite meeting right afterwards." She scowls. "With the new Elites' sense of timing and order of importance, I wouldn't bet on Anna getting around to Sandman anytime soon."

"Damn," Jane murmurs. "That's the best lead we have."

"I know," Elsa clips. She purses her lips. "I wonder if they'll make me fill out a requisition form." The bitterness in her voice makes a couple people frown, but Merida feeds on it.

"I'm telling you, we need to force the Elites to do what we want," Merida says. "You're the leader of the League. Make them listen."

Elsa stares at Merida in stony silence. "Am I, though?" she asks. "Because, where I sit, I don't know jack shit about what half of my supposed team is doing, and apparently I wasn't privy to information before that team even split off." Elsa huffs a harsh breath through her nose and glares at the table. "As long as I'm only a full member and there's at least one Elite running around this base, I will never be the Protector leader. And Calhoun was here long before I was."

Kida frowns. "But it wasn't Calhoun who told us what to do," she says. "It was Mulan and then you."

"But was I _actually_ in control?" Elsa stresses. She stares at Kida, then to every person at the table in turn, but none of them answer. "Yeah," she airs. "Calhoun controlled the information. Calhoun controlled the base. Calhoun protected Arson." She grits her teeth. "We were fighting to bring Arson down, and Calhoun _protected_ her all the while," she spits. "And the only explanation we've gotten to justify this is that 'Reaper made it complicated', as if that was supposed to make any fucking sense."

Jane rubs her temples and sucks in a deep breath. "We don't get it either, Elsa," she says, "but only because we can't see the whole picture. _I know_ that's because Calhoun didn't show us," she adds when Elsa opens her mouth to argue, "but we have pieces." She counts on her fingers. "We know Arson has a split personality. We know that the Red part was created by the Ambassadors and is evil, but that the other part is the Arson we used to know, kind-of. We know Reaper did something to prevent Calhoun from declassifying Arson's file. And we know Arson's always sought out Calhoun's Red suppressant before she could turn."

Jane lowers her hand and taps her fingers on the table. "This isn't a simple picture, and I doubt having more pieces would make it any less complicated."

Shang glances at Jane. "It may be complicated, but that doesn't mean we can't understand it." He huffs a sigh through his nose and looks at the table. "I just wish the Elites just gave us a chance to try." His lips curl into an empty smile. "It doesn't feel as if much has changed, does it? First the old Elites, and now this?"

Jane frowns. "We know who the Elites are this time," she says, but doesn't deny the rest.

"If anything," Shang mumbles, "knowing only makes it a harder to swallow."

Silence hangs heavy over the room.

Megara glances at each person in the room in turn, gauging their reactions. No one is happy with the situation, but they're all dealing with it in their own way. Merida's way is anger, but that's nothing new. Jane's way is logic. Shang, Esmeralda, and Kida's way are just to try to keep their heads above water. And Elsa's way is through blame.

Megara hums and leans back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. Only Merida is craving blood the way she is, but Megara would rather punch herself in the face than align with the homicidal bowman.

"What are our options?" Megara asks. She looks to Elsa. "Is there any way to continue the insanity investigation without Sandman being interrogated?"

Elsa shrugs. "Maybe," she hinges, "but it'll be hard without Belle."

"Would Vikke be able to help us?" Kida asks.

"If she's allowed to, I suppose," Elsa says. "But what could Vikke turn up that Calhoun didn't?" She frowns. "Or maybe Calhoun just didn't tell us everything." She thinks for a moment before turning to the rest of the table. "Do you think Arson has anything to do with this?"

"Anna sounded convinced that she wasn't," Jane says, "and the evidence added up, but we never excluded Arson as an instigator."

Megara's heart flutters and she leaps on the opportunity. "If Arson _is_ at the head of all this, or involved in any way, we're obligated to figure it out before the Elites make their move," she says. "Otherwise we may lose valuable intel, which is something we can't afford. We need to find Arson and make her talk."

"'Make' isn't exactly an option we have," Esmeralda drones. "Or did you forget that the last time the League tried, we initiated an Incident?"

Beside Megara, Kida's back snaps as straight as a board, and her jaw muscles jump from the force of her clenching her teeth. "We remember," she hisses, her accent thick. Megara places a calming hand on Kida's thigh and throws a glare Esmeralda's way.

"It needed to be said," Esmeralda mutters, but her fingers tremble. She pulls out a flask from who knows where and takes a hardy swallow from it.

Elsa glances between Esmeralda and Kida, then inhales a slow, calculated breath. "I guess until Anna gets to Sandman," she says, "we will work on tracking Arson. If we find her, I'll go talk to her with a small team, or maybe I'll go by myself. She's been . . . _somewhat_ receptive to conversation when we're alone." She frowns. "At the least she didn't try to kill me when I accused her of kidnapping my parents, and she forced Scar to give me information regarding it."

Shang purses his lips. "That's odd logic, even for Arson," he says. "If she were involved, why would she go out of her way to help you unravel her own organization? Sure, she owed someone a favour," he adds, "but she offered her aid to Elsa _before_ she was forced to help. It doesn't add up."

"When has anything Arson done make sense?" Megara poses. "She's been a confusing pain in the ass ever since the first Incident. I doubt any of her actions can be taken at face value at this point. For all we know her aid and the reduced severity of the insanity cases was her trying to throw us off the trail."

Kida bobs her head in a slow nod. "She has purposely lost to us before to undermine Ares' world ending plan," she says. "It's possible she's doing something similar now."

"If that's the case," Jane says in a measured tone, "then we also have to consider the possibility that Arson _wants_ us to figure out what's going on."

"Which would imply she wants _us_ to take it down," Shang murmurs. He pinches the bridge of his nose. "This is giving me a headache."

"We're talking about Arson, what did you expect? A tea party?" Megara drones.

A knock sounds on the door.

Elsa's eyes harden, and so do Megara's. There's only two types of people who that could be. Elites or the dirtbag Lehne, and Megara doesn't know which she would like less right now.

"Let them in," Elsa clips.

Merida, the closest to the door, raises an eyebrow as if to say, 'not me, bitch', and remains seated. Shang, the second closest, glances at Merida for all of two seconds before standing and getting the door himself.

Shang leaps backwards when he opens the door and reaches for a weapon that isn't on his hip. Megara herself startles along with the rest of the table when the door swings open the rest of the way to reveal a fully armoured meta they've never seen before.

"Relax," the newcomer says, their voice a flat metallic ring. They step into the room and shut the door behind them. Once they door is shut they reach up and, with a pressurized hiss, removes their helmet.

Elsa's eyes widen. "Rapunzel?" she airs.

A pained smile crosses Rapunzel's lips. "Yeah," she says. "Sorry for the scare. Calhoun wants me familiarizing myself with my new armour."

The muscles in Elsa's jaw jump. "Is that some sort of promotion bonus?" she says, all but spitting the words.

Rapunzel winces. "I get you're not happy with me, and I swear I'll get around to explaining everything—"

"Why not explain it right now?" Elsa snaps. "I'm listening."

Rapunzel's shoulders hitch towards her ears, and her gaze goes everywhere but to Elsa. "I'm only here to pass on information dictated by Calhoun," she says, "then I'm expected in one of the training rooms with Ariel."

"Don't you mean Poseidon?" Elsa asks. "From what I understand, you Elites don't use your real names around the likes of us."

Rapunzel's eyes glisten and she grits her teeth. Megara notices that the helmet Rapunzel holds in her hands is shaking. "There are three new metas on the database," she says through clenched teeth, but her voice still wavers. "We don't know much about them, so what you have access to as fulls is basically all we know."

" _Basically?_ " Elsa stresses. "In other words, you're keeping even more secrets from me?"

Rapunzel closes her eyes and breathes. "Please, Elsa," she whispers. "Listen to what I'm trying to tell you. It could be a matter of life and death."

"If it's that serious, then why are we being left in the dark?" Elsa asks. "Why, as the leader of the fucking League, do I know _less_ about what's going on than _you?_ "

Rapunzel's eyes snap open and she glares at Elsa. "You want to be mad at me? Fine, then be mad. But don't blame me for your leadership issues when the real problem is you not giving me the time I need to be able to properly talk with you!"

Elsa shoots to her feet, her chair flying backwards. "You've had plenty of time!" she roars.

"I've had _zero_ time!" Rapunzel bellows, her eyes flashing. "I was made Elite in the midst of _everything_ going wrong, and if I wasn't training my ass off to get prepared for what's coming then I've been _dealing_ with what's coming!"

"Then tell me what's coming," Elsa seethes.

"It's none of your damn business!" Rapunzel hollers, slamming her helmet into the table.

For a second, everyone in the room goes still.

Rapunzel pales and straightens her posture. "Elsa—"

"You're already sounding like them," Elsa says, pulling her upturned seat upright and sitting down. She stares at Rapunzel. "At this point, I'm surprised you even bother dealing with us, since we're obviously not important."

Rapunzel stares at Elsa, her mouth moving wordlessly, before she grits her teeth. Tears sting her eyes and, this time, they fall. "You aren't the only person in the League who's suffering," she hisses. "And your _lack_ of _foresight_ makes me wonder—" She stops herself with a sharp breath in. Megara suspects the healer stopped herself from saying something she could never take back.

Rapunzel glares at Elsa with glistening eyes. "Just look up Gatekeeper Alpha Alpha, Moana Landalis, and Gatekeeper Beta Rho in the meta database," she clips. Kida's eyes widen and her attention snaps to Rapunzel. Before Kida can say anything, Rapunzel flashes Elsa a spiteful smile and says, "Unless Elite supplied information isn't good enough for you."

"Okay, enough," Jane shouts. She glares at Elsa. "We get it, you're upset." She turns her glare to Rapunzel. "And we get that you're not happy with Elsa's piss poor mood. But the rest of us, or at least me, would like to know exactly what is so important about three metas that Calhoun would send you here to inform us personally of the update."

Rapunzel turns to Jane, and the tension in her features ebbs a fraction. "It's important because Alpha Alpha is an Ultimate meta, and the other two are his children."

"Excuse me," Kida says, and her voice trembles. Megara frowns and looks at her girlfriend. She wasn't this shaken up a moment ago. "Did you say Beta Rho?"

Rapunzel glances to Kida with a frown. "I did," she says, but there's a cautiousness to her words now. "Have you heard of them?"

Kida releases a shaky laugh. "Heard of? Yes. Know anything about them other than they can probably rip my head off? Not really."

Rapunzel's frown deepens. "That's . . . odd. How long have you known about him?"

"Him?" Kida questions. "So they're male?" She glances at her fingers when she starts drumming them on the table. "I didn't know that."

Rapunzel's eyebrows furrow. "What _do_ you know?" she asks. When Kida hesitates, Rapunzel says, "Please, Kida. Beta Rho is the son of an Ultimate. We need to know as much as we can about him."

Kida purses her lips, and her features harden in concentration. After a moment of internal debate, she says, "As a royal of Asgard, there are aspects of my life and history that I am not allowed to disclose without risking the wrath of the Old God. I'm afraid this is one of those things."

Rapunzel stares at Kida. "You've mentioned the Old God before," she says, and her gaze flicks away. "They're a religious icon on your planet, and is the only one who holds power over royalty. I thought you meant a figure like Earth's God; something that may or may not be real, but there's no definitive proof that we can discern. The way you're talking makes it sound like the Old God is alive and well." She locks eyes with Kida. "It also sounds like you're scared of them."

Kida shifts and crosses her arms over her chest. Megara has half the mind to punch Rapunzel for making Kida feel so uncomfortable, but she also doesn't want to face Kida's anger for being rash.

"That may be an accurate assumption," Kida says. Megara frowns at the evasiveness, but Rapunzel's eyes spark with acknowledgement.

"I see," Rapunzel says, flashing Kida a grin. "You've just given me an idea, and Anna and Belle a lot more homework. Sorry," she flashes a flat look Elsa's way, "would you prefer I call her Decryption?"

Elsa glowers at her friend. "Unless you have anything more to say, get out."

Rapunzel clenches her jaw. "Anna is aiming to talk to Sandman tomorrow morning after she's slept off the last of her illness, but I'm sure you don't care to hear that from me," she says. She puts on her helmet with another pressurized hiss as it locks into place. "Til next time, _Blizzard_."

The cold ring of the helmet's voice modulator catches Elsa off guard, Megara can tell, and she stares at her leader the whole time Rapunzel turns heel and leave. Once Rapunzel is out of sight, Elsa blinks tears out of her eyes and touches her chest over her heart.

"I'm glad we're all civil," Esmeralda deadpans, and takes another pull of her flask. Megara does a double take. This flask isn't the same as the last one. How many flasks does Esmeralda have on her? Or, better question, how many has she drank dry?

"That _was_ a bit harsh," Shang agrees. He looks to Elsa. "I get that our friends becoming Elites is a bitter pill, but they're still our friends."

"If you don't keep pushing your luck that is," Esmeralda chortles. "God you were such an asshole!" She tips back her head and laughs. "I wouldn't be surprised if she punches your insensitive face off!"

Megara pinches the bridge of her nose. Esmeralda's drunk. Scratch that, she was already halfway there before the meeting started. She just drank enough to push her into full-on drunk.

"Thank you for the commentary," Elsa mutters and buries her face in her hands. "Fuck," she hisses. She rubs her face with both hands and then pushes from the table. She jogs to the only way in or out of the room, summons her icy armour, and throws open the door. "Crossroads!" she calls. She looks both ways, hesitates, and then runs off. "Crossroads!" she calls again.

The metas in the room stare at the open door.

"Well this meeting was useless," Merida gripes. She stands. "Bye losers," she says, and leaves.

"I guess that's the end of the meeting," Jane says. She grabs her Spartan-style helm from under her chair and puts it on. Shang does the same with his gladiator mask.

Megara watches as the rest of the Leaguers take their leave. All the Leaguers except Esmeralda and Kida, that is. Megara raises an eyebrow at the telepath.

"Can you stand without falling over?" Megara asks.

Esmeralda pulls out a new flask and stares at it. "I have the feeling I'm forgetting something important," she murmurs, but Megara gets the impression that the other meta doesn't expect an answer. Esmeralda drums her fingers on the flask with her free hand, then takes a drink. She stays seated for a moment longer before standing on unsteady feet.

"Landalis," Esmeralda mumbles as she staggers towards the door. "Why does that sound familiar?"

Megara derives some amusement as Emeralda walks smack into the doorframe, before shaking her head and continuing on her way. "I seriously wonder how she's still functional," Megara muses. With a soft sigh through her nose, she walks to the door and shuts it, then retakes her seat beside Kida.

"Are you alright?" Megara asks. She takes Kida's hands in her own and frowns. They're still shaking. "What's wrong?"

Kida locks eyes with Megara and forces a trembling smile. "I'm not sure," she says. "Hearing old terminology could be a good thing, but it could also be very, very bad."

Megara frowns. "Is Beta Rho an enemy?" she asks.

Kida huffs a laugh. "I don't know," she admits. "And if Rapunzel's reaction is real, then the Elites don't know, either."

Megara sits back and takes a moment for that to sink in. The Elites not knowing something on a scale involving Ultimate metas? That . . . sounds as bad as Elsa's small group of Leaguers facing Arson without knowing if she's normal or Red.

Megara turns her gaze aside. She wants to rub her jaw, but she's unwilling to release Kida's hands to do it. "Maybe the Elites _are_ dealing with a crisis too big to have time for us," she murmurs.

 _And damn_ , Megara thinks. _What a scary thought that is_.


	27. Types of Torture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Those-Who Walk-Alone (FFnet), Elsannity (FFnet), Justherefortheride (FFnet), and my newest editor SexyMist (Discord) for betaing my work.
> 
> * * *

Four and a Half Years Ago 

Anna walks into the Elite kitchen and dining area. Elinor is there and, even though Anna knew she'd be here, she winces nonetheless.

Elinor's nostrils flare and she turns to Anna with a frown. "Those pheromones really aren't calming down this time."

Anna huffs a sigh through her nose and grabs a plain mug from the cupboard. "Yeah, no kidding," she airs. She frowns and rolls her shoulders. "They're still strong enough for me to feel them. I haven't gotten used to it yet." She pours water into her mug, heats it with her powers, and throws a tea bag into it. The tea is a narcotic she got on a different planet. There have been cases of it debilitating people and so the planet stamped it illegal, but all it does to Anna is calm her down. So Anna took every stash she could find to help 'clean up' before she left. It's lasted her a full year and counting.

Elinor hums and stares at her almost empty bowl of soup. "Did you tell Jennifer?"

"I did." It wasn't the best way to welcome her fiancée home after a long mission.

A smile curls Elinor's lips. "You certainly didn't waste any time."

"No point sitting on it," Anna says. "Shit like this festers if it isn't dealt with." She sips her tea. It still tastes like water.

An odd look passes over Elinor's face, one she often gives Merida when her daughter makes her proud. "Did she have any theories to why Maleficent's pheromones are sticking better than before?"

Anna swirls the contents of her mug, then she exits the kitchen and takes a seat at the table across from Elinor. "I already had a theory before she came back," Anna hinges. "Jen agreed with me." She winces. "She wasn't particularly happy with it, but she didn't punch my lights out either, so that's something."

"Jennifer would never hit you."

"What are you talking about? She beats my ass all the time. Have you _never_ been to one of our training sessions?" Anna fakes a shudder. "She's a monster."

"Ugh, right?" Elinor chuckles. "I hate going up against her."

"You and me both."

Anna and Elinor have a losing rate against Jennifer as high as the Elite's success rates on missions. Maybe they'd be able to win more if deadly force were allowed in training, but that isn't a risk the Elites are willing to take. Well, all of them except Maleficent, but she's never given a shit about safety to begin with.

Elinor finishes off the last few bites of soup. It smells amazing, and Anna points to it. "Is there any more of that?" she asks.

Elinor raises an eyebrow. "I didn't know you had a thing for alien food," she remarks.

"If you're referring to that raw slug thing on Worien then yes I'd prefer to eat lead. But this looks normal." Anna leans over and sniffs. "Smells normal, too. What is it?"

"I can't pronounce it without the translator," Elinor admits, "but I learnt how to make it while I was working a mission on Hyolar with James."

A slow smile curls Anna's lips. "I recall James making a special trip there recently. Did he bring this back?"

"Brought back the ingredients, actually." Elinor grins. "He claims I make it better."

"That's a given. You cook everything better," Anna says. She stares at the bowl and drums her fingers on the table. "So, uh, did you make enough to share or were you planning on hoarding it for the two of you?"

Elinor shakes her head and heads to the kitchen. "Plans don't mean much when any one of us Elites could eat a restaurant out of business. Shit, I forgot my bowl. Can you throw it to me?"

Anna leans over and throws the spoon like a projectile, then the bowl. Elinor catches them both with ease.

The fire meta watches Elinor work for a moment before staring at the opposite wall. She takes a drink of her tea for courage. "So, uh, I came here to talk to you."

"Mm, I figured," Elinor says. She reclaims her seat and sets a bowl in front of each of them. She gestures to the bowls. "Can you?"

Anna nods and heats the contents of both bowls. She pokes at her own with a spoon. "Are there any signs of the pheromones being flushed from my system?" she asks.

Elinor freezes with a spoon halfway to her mouth. She lowers it back down and sniffs the air. She tilts her head. "It's slightly less potent than before, but I think it may be caused by the pheromones integrating into your system more, so they're starting to smell more like you."

Anna winces. "So no flushing?"

Elinor's eyes soften. "I think the dose you got this time was permanent, and not in a minor fashion like before." She frowns and rubs the back of her neck. "I don't understand it, though. It has never taken this well before. You say you speculate the reason, but I don't see—"

"Because," Anna interrupts, "she— damn it, she— _augh_." Anna groans and buries her face in her hands. She hated explaining this once. She's not looking forward to doing it again. "She bit me while I was masturbating."

Elinor chokes on her own spit. She pounds on her chest and all but hacks up a lung. Then she's staring at Anna with a look that is trying _so hard_ not to be judgemental. "Was it consensual?"

Anna squirms in her seat. "Yes? Okay, before you say anything, let me explain." She's going about this all wrong, but at least it's not as much of a disaster as when she told Jennifer. "I had just, uh, _finished_ , when I got a knock on the door. I thought it was you or James because when does Maleficent seek me out in my room? Anyway, I opened the door and she got punched in the gut with the smell, I guess, and it was driving her insane. She wouldn't leave. I panicked and told Calhoun to call Jen—"

"Jennifer was on radio silence," Elinor says.

"Yeah, I know. I was panicking, okay!" Anna forces a breath through her teeth and runs a hand through her hair. "Calhoun refused to call so I was on my own. I told Maleficent that I didn't belong to her or owe her anything, and that she should leave. Then, _then_ , she fell to her knees in front of me and whimpered, fucking _whimpered_ , and said she didn't need my body. She just needed to bite me."

"Wait," Elinor interrupts, wide-eyed. "Are you saying she _begged?_ "

"Yeah," Anna says. "It was weird. Like, when does Maleficent of all people beg? I've never even seen her bend her pride enough to apologise let alone anything else." She frowns. "Well, she's half-heartedly said 'sorry' to me a couple of times after she royally pissed me off, but I don't think that counts."

"It's more than she gives anyone else, so I say it counts," Elinor says. She scratches her jaw. "So I'm assuming you let her bite you, and the post-orgasm hormones let the pheromones take root?"

Anna cringes. "Um, yeah, kind of."

Elinor narrows her eyes. "What do you mean, 'kind of'?"

Anna fiddles with her spoon and refuses to make eye contact with the shape shifter. "I let her bite me because fuck it, right? She's bitten me hundreds of times by now so who cares? Only, I probably should have cared."

The muscles in Elinor's jaw jump. "She didn't make you do anything you didn't want to, did she?"

"Yes and no? Please don't yell at me." Anna's shoulders inch towards her ears, and Elinor swallows whatever she was going to say. By the angry flush on her face, Anna would say it wasn't an easy task.

"Okay," Elinor says. Her voice is calm, but there's a tremor in it. Anna suspects it's from rage. "Tell me what happened."

Anna crosses her arms over her chest and stares at the stew. She'd rather be eating that right now. "Apparently her pheromones are enhanced when injected before and during sex."

"During?" Elinor all but growls.

"The strength of the initial pheromones took me off guard, okay!" Anna shouts. "They've never hit me that hard before so I didn't expect— god, I suspect that's what drugs are supposed to feel like."

Elinor's eyes widen. "Did she— she didn't—"

"She didn't rape me," Anna confirms. "But she did touch me a bit when I started masturbating again."

Elinor buries her head in her hands. "Oh, Anna," she moans. "What the hell?"

"I didn't exactly plan for this to happen!" She holds up her hand to show off her engagement ring, then lets her arm drop back to the table. "Meli didn't do much besides kiss my stomach and bite me again"—she touches a spot under her left breast—"but it was far more intimate than I would have liked."

Elinor doesn't say anything for a long couple of moments, and then she lifts her head. She gives Anna a strange look. "Meli?" she asks.

The blood drains from Anna's face. All the Elites know about the deal Anna made with Maleficent, including the nickname, so Elinor knows what it means.

Anna closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. Her hand is shaking. She didn't want to go through this part of the conversation again. "I love Jen so much it hurts," she says, "and I bet I would probably kill myself if she died, but . . ." She sighs and buries her hands in her hair. "What if I still had enough of my heart left to love someone else?"

Elinor stares. "You—" she cuts herself off with a frown. "You love Maleficent? The woman who's been treating you like prey or meat since the day you met?"

"I don't know, maybe," Anna sighs. "I care about her, and I can't stop thinking about her, and _god_ I can't stop praying for her to be okay."

After biting Anna twice, Maleficent had to go into hibernation to prevent herself from going into shock. She's been down for the count for five days. Since then her condition has stabilized, but she hasn't gotten much better. She must have swallowed some of Anna's blood by accident. Anna suspects Maleficent would be dead right now if she didn't have immunity to most poisons.

Elinor stirs the contents of her bowl with a frown. "Are you sure that's not just the pheromones mixing with your caring nature?"

"I wouldn't doubt if that caused part of these feelings," Anna relents, "but I've built up something of an immunity over the years, so I know what they're trying to make me do. They're trying to make me go to Maleficent and offer myself to her. They don't cause emotions that weren't already there, just enhance the ones that help submission."

Elinor's frown deepens. "So you already had feelings for her?"

"Yeah, but I never addressed them." Anna scowls and massages her forehead. "How could I have? This is _Maleficent_ we're talking about. She wanted to murder people— _normal_ people—for bumping into me on the street. How the hell am I supposed to feel about that? I just—" She sighs. "I needed to control her. I didn't have time for feelings. Emotional distance made everything simple. Berate her? Done. Order her to do something she doesn't want to do? Done. Show clear disappointment in her? Done. It was _easier_. God, I wish it was still easier."

A sob catches in Anna's throat and, for the first time, she realizes that she's crying. "Why did it have to be her?" she croaks. "Why couldn't it have been you, or James? At least then I would've been able to trust who I love."

"As flattered as I am, I'm not interested, and Jennifer would probably kill James if he tried touching you like that." A hand rests on Anna's forearm. "If you'd have loved either of us I can't say it would've ended well but with Maleficent there's, uh, well, there's a chance it'll end well. At least you know she cares about you."

"As much as Maleficent can care about anyone," Anna grumbles. "And who knows how much that is?"

"She does," Elinor says. She doesn't sound as angry as she was before. "You'll need to talk to her when she wakes up."

"Yeah, no shit," Anna mutters. She lights her face on fire to burn away her tears, then leans back in her chair. She grabs Elinor's hand before she can pull it away. "I don't want her to fight a challenger bout," she whispers. "Jen and Meli will have to fight to the death, and I don't want either of them to die."

"You put that clause in place so that Maleficent wouldn't have automatic rights to you," Elinor says. "If you take that away you know what'll happen."

Anna hesitates. "Not really, though." She takes one of her thumbs between her teeth. "If I word it right and convince her, I could make her accept co-claim with Jen."

Elinor rubs the back of her neck. "I'm not sure how well that'd work, but it's a possibility."

"One I'm more willing to work with than death." Anna takes a bite of stew. She blinks. "Shit, this is great."

Elinor grins. "I know, right? Just be warned, there's steroids in the meat. The animals on Hyolar produce them as a by-product, but different animals have different potencies."

Anna raises an eyebrow. "As good as that is to know, why warn _me?_ "

Elinor blinks, then laughs outright. "Good point."

They're halfway through eating when Jennifer and James enter the room. James' eyes light up when he spots the soup.

"Oo, you made it already!" James bounces over to Elinor and hovers behind her, staring at her bowl.

"There's more in the kitchen," Elinor grunts. "Get your peepers off of mine."

Jennifer rolls her eyes and sits next to Anna while her brother goes to the kitchen. She doesn't make a move to touch Anna.

Bile lurches from Anna's stomach, but she swallows it down before she can puke. "Did you tell him?" she asks instead. Talking is better than silence.

"Tell me what?" James asks. "That you fucked the most insane hero I've ever met?" Anna almost chokes on her spoon. James returns with a bowl and sits beside Elinor. He looks at Anna and points at his food. "Please?"

"I— what— no, fuck you!" Anna sputters. "I didn't have sex with her!"

James raises an eyebrow. "You mean you didn't climax with her groping and biting you?"

Anna goes as red as a tomato. Beside her, Jennifer stiffens.

"That's none of your business," Anna says.

James rests his elbows on the table and leans forward. "So you're saying you _didn't_ have soft-core sex with a hard-core maniac?"

Guilt slams into Anna, hard, and she finds she's not hungry anymore. She pushes her bowl away and stands up. "I need a drink." She grabs her mug, downs the remainder of it, and heads into the kitchen.

"If you're making," James says, "can I have a Juon on the rocks?"

Juon is an alien alcohol that makes human hard liquor look like horse piss, and it definitely shouldn't be had without mixer. Powerful meta or not, Juon can knock the socks off any one of the Elites, even Anna if she drinks a copious amount fast enough.

James makes a disgruntled sound. "And can you please heat up my food?"

Anna slams a large vial of Juon on the counter and glares at the hell meta. "Get a fucking pot."

Jennifer frowns in her direction and Anna turns her back to the dining room. Her fiancée is disappointed in her, Anna knows, and facing that makes the wound hurt more than it already does.

Tears burn in Anna's eyes and she grabs the Juon. She stares at it. There's a little more than half of it left. It won't be enough to make her forget how to walk, but it will make the world spin. She taps the lid. It might have an unexpected effect with the tea in her system, but at this stage she's about ready to take that risk.

Only, Anna doesn't want to drink. Her brain and her heart hurt, and she knows alcohol won't take that away. She just . . . wants to sit down.

Anna leans against the counter and starts sliding to the floor. There are shouts of alarm, because the Elites know this sign by now, but Anna can't bring herself to care. She doesn't want to talk anymore. She doesn't want to deal with anyone else. She doesn't even want to deal with herself.

Anna sits on the floor with her knees up and her head against the cabinets. Her ears start ringing and her heart goes numb. Some part of her brain realizes that she's crying, but the rest of her doesn't know why it's important.

The vial is taken from Anna's hands and someone's wiping the tears from her face, but she doesn't focus her eyes to figure out who.

"Fuck, _fuck_ ," Anna hears, but doesn't let herself put a name to the voice. "Fucking hell, James, look at what you did!"

"What _I_ did? She must have been ready for a meltdown long before I got here if I only had to say one thing!"

"If you had been more sensitive it would have been fine!"

"Don't you blame this on me. If she fell apart from one shit comment then that means you didn't take the news very well when she told you. Did you even tell her it was alright?"

"That isn't—"

" _No_ , did you even _fucking_ tell her it was alright!"

"Enough, both of you! Arguing isn't going to help her so, just, _ugh_ , sit by her in silence or leave her alone. She'll come back when she's ready."

Blessed silence washes over Anna and she closes her eyes. She's still crying, but it doesn't matter. Her chest is too numb to remember why she's hurting.

Anna doesn't know how long it is until she regains her senses, but she isn't happy when she does. The lingering numbness over her emotions isn't enough to block their sharp sting. She blinks her eyes open and squints against the light. She tenses, thinking someone will notice her regaining awareness, but no one says anything.

 _Alone, eh?_ Anna thinks. She's not sure if that stings more than being in company. She sighs and rolls her neck, then nearly jumps out of her skin. _Okay, not so alone_.

Across from her, Jennifer is slouched against the deepfreeze. Her arms are crossed on her raised knees and her head rests against the crook of her arm. Her breathing is soft and even, a pattern Anna knows well. Jennifer's asleep.

Huffing a light sigh through her nose, Anna shifts to her knees and reaches out. Jennifer will get a cramp if she stays like this.

Before Anna's hand can touch Jennifer, her body freezes.

" _Jen?" Anna whispers. She just finished her explanation in full and, while Jennifer was vocal before, she's been sitting with her face in her hands for the past five minutes._

" _We can manage this," Jennifer says, but it rings more like a strategic calculation rather than a comfort. She sucks in a deep breath and sits up. She won't look at Anna. "Maleficent is still in hibernation, so we can figure out what to do and have a plan of action ready for when she wakes up."_

_Anna takes a tentative step forward and reaches out, but the sharp look Jennifer gives Anna's hand stops her dead. She drops her arm back to her side. "We'll have to tell the other Elites."_

_Jennifer rubs her mouth. "Yeah, we will," she murmurs. She sounds so far away. She shakes her head and stands. "I'll talk to James."_

Look at me _, Anna thinks. Tears threaten to sting her eyes, but she doesn't let them. One benefit of having fire based powers. "I'll talk to Elinor. With her nose, she might be able to tell me a thing or two about what's happening with the pheromones."_

_The muscles in Jennifer's jaw clench. Anna resists the urge to wince._

" _Yeah, good idea," Jennifer says. She starts walking to the door._

" _Jen," Anna says, before her fiancée can leave. "We're not okay, are we?"_

_Jennifer pauses in the doorway. Anna doesn't know if she turns back around to face her, because Anna isn't looking at her._

" _It'll be fine, Anna. We'll make it work."_

_The door closes, and Anna knows Jennifer is gone._

_Anna tilts her head to the ceiling as if it'd stop the tears from flowing, but all it does is give Calhoun a good look at the face of heartbreak_.

" _That's not an answer," Anna chokes._

Anna retracts her hand and pushes to her feet. Jennifer isn't here because of love. She's here because the leader of the League broke down in the middle of the kitchen and she feels responsible.

Anna grabs at her chest and blinks tears from her eyes. She staggers to the liquor cabinet and grabs a full vial of Juon. She downs half of it.

"Easy," Calhoun soothes, her voice soft on the speakers. She must have seen Anna refusing to wake up Jennifer.

"Easy?" Anna scoffs. "I'll go easy when the situation gets easy." She downs half of what's left.

"Things always get better, Anna."

"Yeah, but who kicks the bucket along the way?" Anna grabs an extra vial of Juon and walks to the living room. She sinks into the middle of the couch and sets the full vial on the coffee table. She stares at the vial still in her hand, then takes a sip. "Jen's going to kill her."

Calhoun sighs. "You don't know that."

"Don't I?" Anna counters. She leans back into the couch and rubs her eyes. "What I want and what Jen wants are two different things."

"How do you mean?"

"I'm okay with sharing," Anna states. "She's not."

"Again, you don't know that," Calhoun says. She almost sounds exasperated.

"If it were literally anyone else then maybe Jen would _consider_ letting me into another relationship," Anna allows. "But this isn't 'anybody else'. It's Maleficent. And Jen would rather rip Meli's head off than let her anywhere near me."

"I don't think you're giving Jennifer the credit she deserves," Calhoun cautions.

"And I'm sure the person who isn't fucking dating her would know way more about that than me," Anna mocks. She drinks the remainder of the first vial of Juon. None of the effects have hit her yet, but when they do she wants them to hit her so hard she forgets how to think.

"Just listen to yourself," Calhoun snaps. "You two have been together for, what, four years now? And you've known her for even longer than that. Do you really think she'd willfully ignore your feelings to do something that would hurt you?"

"I think she's as possessive as her father and more of a monogamist than Elinor," Anna retorts. "I also know how stubborn Maleficent is. Neither of them are going to back down."

"That doesn't mean Maleficent is going to die."

"What else is going to happen?" Anna demands, slamming the vial on the coffee table. It shatters. "If they end up fighting for real Jen will wipe the floor with Maleficent, and that stupid, stubborn dragon won't back down until one of them is dead, even if she knows it's going to be her."

Calhoun groans. "Maybe instead of speculating you can actually talk with everyone and come up with a plan? Or did you forget how to do that?"

"Not quite yet," Anna murmurs. She stares at her hands. Since when has she had twenty fingers? "If one of them dies because of this, Calhoun, I don't want to be a hero anymore."

"Then make sure neither of them do," Calhoun stresses. "You're the leader of the League. _Make_ them listen."

"Tomorrow," Anna says. She opens the other vial of Juon and takes a swig. "Right now I'd just like to forget."

"Now is the last time you'd want to be forgetting anything," Calhoun retorts. She lowers her voice and asks, "What's really bothering you, Anna?"

Anna's hands start shaking to the point where she has to set down the vial. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Anna—"

"Just ask Jen!" Anna roars. "At least she'll fucking look at you!" She tries to focus on a nearby camera, but she doesn't know which one is real and which ones are fragments of her splitting vision. She gives up and stands, only to lose her balance and collapse on the floor. She feels shards of glass pressing against her pants and decides not to move all that much.

"Why in the— did she drink that whole thing by herself?" someone asks.

"Within a matter of a couple minutes," Calhoun says.

The other voice sighs. "Fuck."

Anna can hear approaching footfalls, and then the back of a hand is pressed into her cheek.

"She drank too much. Why didn't you wake me up?"

"I couldn't exactly stop her," Calhoun deadpans. "And I didn't wake you up because Anna didn't want you awake. You . . . kind of fucked up this time, Jennifer."

 _Jennifer. Right_ , Anna thinks. That's why the voice sounded familiar.

"I hardly think _I'm_ the one who fucked up," Jennifer retorts.

"Oh yeah? Then why the hell did Anna choose to chug an entire vial of Juon over waking you up?"

"How should I know? This isn't the only stupid thing she's done recently."

Anna closes her eyes. Her chest hasn't gone numb enough to cushion the impact of that.

"God!" Calhoun blurts. "You can be so blind sometimes! No wonder Anna's considering leaving the League."

"I— what?" Jennifer says. She sounds hurt. "Why would she do that?"

"I don't know, why would you treat your fiancée like dirt and threaten to 'take care of' someone she cares about?"

"Her care is misplaced," Jennifer clips. "Maleficent doesn't care about anyone other than herself, and Anna is a fool for thinking that beast can care for her as anything other than a pet."

Anna's heart twists in her chest. That's just . . . ouch.

Anna pushes herself to her hands and knees with a groan. The worlds spins around her. Two hands support her before she can topple over.

"Slow down, I got you," Jennifer murmurs.

Anna rears and throws a punch at where she assumes Jennifer's chest is. She misses and collapses onto her back.

"Calm down, it's just me!" Jennifer barks.

Glass digs into Anna's shirt and she tries not to move. The glass might not be able to puncture her skin without enough force backing it, but it can put holes in her shirt. The last thing she needs is more shirts with holes in them.

Jennifer huffs an irritated sigh. "Come on. I'll get you to bed."

"Take me to my own room," Anna says. She doesn't want to spend the night with Jennifer.

"I was going to," Jennifer says as she picks Anna up bridal style.

Anna tips her head back and bellows a pained laugh, as if she expects it to dull the knife digging into her chest. "Oh, who's the hero now!" she sings, loud and off key. "It's not me, it's not me, so keep lookin' around! Oh, who's the hero now?" She stares at Jennifer's face, or at least one of them. "It's not you, it's not you, so stop actin' so proud."

Jennifer narrows her eyes and drops Anna on the couch. "You know what? Just sleep here." She grabs the mostly full vial of Juon. "I'll come check on you in the morning."

An unhinged type of laughter spills from Anna's lips, and she doesn't stop until long after Jennifer's gone.

"Calhoun," Anna says when her voice is hoarse and her throat is far too dry to be comfortable.

"Yes?"

"Am I a horrible person?"

Calhoun sucks in a breath she doesn't need. "No, Anna, you're not."

Anna doesn't respond. If she's not terrible, then why does she feel like she is?

* * *

Present Day 

"I don't know if you want to come along for this," Anna says. She woke up an hour ago not feeling as shitty as the day before, which is an improvement.

"Someone needs to watch the door," Ariel chimes. She has an arm around Rapunzel's shoulders despite both of them being fully armoured, and she holds one of Anna's hands with the other.

"I suppose Crossroads could use the company," Anna murmurs. "But don't delude yourself. Sandman already admitted to looking into Arson's dreams. It won't be pretty in there."

"Will that translate in you needing my powers?" Rapunzel asks. She's holding a portable base console in a bare hand, and her removed form-fitting gauntlet is tucked under her arm.

"If I can help it, no," Anna says. "If I can't help it, then still no. You aren't healing anybody for at least another day."

Rapunzel snorts. "As much as I appreciate your concern, I'm an Elite now. I don't have to listen to you."

Anna frowns. "I wouldn't want you to follow me blindly. If you think that using your powers before you're fully recovered is a good idea when you don't know the extent of the damage you caused yourself then you're entitled to use them."

Rapunzel leans in to Ariel with an irritated sigh. She doesn't respond.

Anna knows what this is really about. Rapunzel has been having second thoughts about the secrecy portion of the Elites ever since her strained conversation with Elsa yesterday. She started questioning everything about the plans they've already set, and it took Calhoun some time to assuage her worries.

In the end the thing that convinced Rapunzel was Anna saying, 'if you tell them the full truth I won't help you anymore.' Calhoun and Ariel had piped in, saying that if Anna left the League then they would too.

The three strongest metas in the League threatened to drop everything if the silence wasn't upheld, which effectively pushed Rapunzel into a corner. She had to decide between crippling the League and staying true to her beliefs, and she's not happy that she was put in that position. Anna doesn't blame her. She'd be angry in Rapunzel's shoes, too.

"Are you planning on burning her?" Ariel asks, her voice too low to be overheard.

Anna frowns. "What gave you that impression?"

Ariel nods at Anna's clothes. "Your outfit is flame proof."

Anna blinks. She's surprised Ariel noticed. It's not like her clothes—SWAT boots, dark brown cargo pants, and a grey t-shirt—advertise their real purpose. They don't even have armour in them.

"I'm not," Anna says. "I just don't want to risk being naked at some point."

"You'll be putting on a show, then?" Rapunzel guesses.

 _Among other things_. "It's what I'm good at," Anna replies. Manipulation is one of her fortes and she doubts she'll have to resort to full-body open flames, but letting them think she's using fire is better than letting them know the truth.

Anna stops in front of the training room were Sandman is being held and releases Ariel's hand. "Don't get too bored," she says.

Ariel grins. "No worries. I'll help her research."

 _Good_ , Anna thinks, and nods her approval. The more distracted they are the less likely they are to try to enter the room. "See you in a bit." She enters the room and stands just inside the threshold. The doors close behind her.

Sandman looks up from whatever she was doing and stares at Anna. She frowns, as if she recognizes Anna but she doesn't know from where. That will change soon.

Anna takes every poor social cue she ever picked up from Maleficent and curls her lips into an unsettling grin. "Vikke," she rumbles, "don't open the doors without my say-so and lock audio and video footage of this encounter under Elite level access."

A beep of confirmation sounds over the speakers, and Anna rumbles a deep laugh. She stares at Sandman like a predator. "It's just you and me now, Sandman."

Sandman's eyes widen and she scrambles to her feet.

"Vikke," Anna barks, before Sandman can say anything, "change scenery. Elite stored simulation, Torture One."

The living room scenery dissipates into thin air and it's replaced by tables and tools no one should ever have to see, let alone worry it will be used on them.

Anna gestures to an angled table with built-in restraints. "Situate yourself there."

Sandman staggers backwards, tripping over a bear trap. She catches her balance, but she's shaking all over. "I d-don't understand," she stutters. "I've been cooperative. Why are you doing this?"

Anna leans on a table full of surgical tools and smiles, all teeth and no mirth. "Tainted hellfire smoke was not kind to me, and I shan't be kind to any who utilize it or are trying to recreate it's effects." She blows smoke out her nose. "So I'm here to, hmm, _obtain_ the truth." She picks up a pair of pliers and examines them. "And trust me, no one will mind if you're missing a toenail or two."

All the blood drains from Sandman's face, and her throat bobs in a harsh swallow. "Arson," she croaks.

"No!" Anna roars, slamming the clamp back on the table. One good thing about doing this in a training room is that she can't break fake materials as easily as real ones. "I'm not _Arson_ ," she spits the name like a curse. "I am your worst _fucking_ nightmare." She throws the table aside and stalks towards Sandman with coiled muscles. "You admitted to violating the privacy of my dreams," Anna snarls. "And no one, _no one_ , gets the upper fucking hand on me without my direct goddamn permission. Do you understand me?"

Sandman cowers behind an upright coffin of spikes. "Y-yes. I'm sorry. Please forgive me."

"Forgive you?" Anna asks. She barks an unhinged, uproarious laugh. "You decided to have a peek into my brain and had the fucking _gall_ to tell the League about it!" Anna slams a swinging kick into the coffin and sends it flying across the room. "Do you have _any_ fucking idea how stupid that was?" she bellows, spittle spraying from her mouth. "Giving the League ideas about my weaknesses is a folly I can't overlook."

Sandman bolts to the other end of the room. Anna stares at her, then follows at a slow, unnerving pace.

"This isn't just about you, _Aurora_ ," Anna says. Her lips curl into a slimy grin when Sandman stops dead in her tracks. "You can run and hide, and hell I'll even let you, but what about your friends and family? Can they protect themselves against someone like me?" She taps her chin in thought. "I wonder how they'd like being dragged behind a car."

Sandman releases a distressed cry and covers her mouth with her hands. She starts crying. "P-please, they have nothing to do with this," she warbles. "Don't hurt them."

Anna closes the distance between then and grabs Sandman by the cuff of her shirt before the other meta can scramble away. "They have _everything_ to do with this, thanks to your foolish behaviour. Now you either get on that fucking table or things are going to get"—Anna sucks in a sharp breath and she drags her eyes down Sandman's body—"a hell of a lot more interesting." She licks her lips and Sandman's legs almost give out from under her.

A coil of self loathing bundles in Anna's gut, and she almost drops the whole act when Sandman openly sobs. Acting like a villain—something Anna's become far too good at over the years—is one thing, but doing so to a meta who she isn't sure is guilty? It feels like an all new low.

Anna releases Sandman and takes a step back. She raises an eyebrow when Sandman sends her a pleading look, and the woman's shoulders slump. The distressed meta glances at the restraint table.

"If I do this, will you leave my family alone?" Sandman asks. Her voice wavers.

"That all depends on your level of cooperation," Anna replies. She smirks. "If you're forthcoming, perhaps all I'll do is torture the people you love as holograms. Otherwise I can make that fantasy real. I assure you I don't mind either way."

Sandman looks like she's going to be sick. "Will my full cooperation get rid of both those options?"

Anna rolls her eyes. "If you are, fully and completely, then I guess I won't take your body however the fuck I want once we're done. How does that sound?"

Sandman gags and she turns a pale shade of green.

Anna watches the sleep meta for a moment before stepping forward and grabbing Sandman by the hair. Anna tugs her head back, baring the front of her throat, and Anna stares at it.

"We have important business to discuss," Anna says, "but I'm willing to delay it for, say, an hour." She catches Sandman's gaze. "Do you think you can handle me for that long?"

This time Sandman does choke up bile, and Anna releases her grip so the other meta can spit it on the floor.

"I'll take that as a no," Anna says. She turns heel and walks back to the table. "How about I make things easy and just ask questions? If I'm satisfied with your answers you can remain where you are, but if I'm not I'll restrain and torture you. Fair?"

Sandman opens her mouth but no words come out. She nods instead.

"Mm, good." Anna sits on a glass casket filled with centipedes. "In my dreams, what did you figure out?"

"Uh," Sandman croaks. She clears her throat. "The details have gotten fuzzy since then, but I learned to some extent what tainted hellfire smoke did to you, what you and some of the other old Elites looked like without their masks, and a couple scattered memories but I couldn't tell if they were real or not."

Anna hums and leans back on her elbows. She never deviates her focus from Sandman's face. "What memories did you see?"

Sandman swallows. "Uhh, I saw you torturing Shadow."

 _Fake_ , Anna thinks.

"I saw you crushing Athena's skull and ripping out her heart," Sandman continues.

Anna suppresses her wince. _True_.

"Um, I saw you struggling with the Ambassadors. You were being pushed into a cryo tube or something, and Hades was already in an active one across the room from you." Sandman frowns. "This memory was fragmented. You were resisting and shouting at the Ambassadors, but at the same time other memories about screaming or blood or war or fighting were crashing into it. I lost track of the thread and couldn't make heads or tails of what was happening."

Anna's eyes harden. That must have been right before she was put under, and the other memories must have been the false ones that bombarded her afterwards.

Sandman scratches her chest and shuffles from foot to foot. "I got the impression that your memories under influence of tainted hellfire smoke were on an accelerated time scale, but only because there's no way you'd have a denser memory mass during your torture than your entire life up until that point. Uh, what else?" She frowns, and flinches when Anna shifts. "I, uh, know that Scar and Hades went through the same thing as you," she sputters. "And, um, I know that you, at least at that time, regretted what you did to the old Elites?"

"What did you learn about the Ambassadors?" Anna clips. She can't drop the act until she exonerates Sandman as the culprit.

"Nothing through direct memories," Sandman says, "but I figured out through context that they didn't have the best interest of Earth in mind. They wanted to cripple the League so there wouldn't be anyone to protect the planet. I'm not sure why."

"I see." Anna rubs her nose. "Tell me what you know about the current situation."

"Until the League came for me I didn't know anything," Sandman says.

Anna's lips curl into a cruel smile. "Oh, and you were doing so well." She holds out her hand. "Vikke, give me a sand burrower from Achilles Four." A long creature with ten legs and multiple incisors appears in Anna's hand. She pinches the burrower's head to keep it from scrambling away. She jumps from her perch and advances on Sandman.

Sandman's eyes widen and she takes a step back. "Wait, please!" she cries, scrambling as far away as she can. "I know that a similar situation with personality transformations is happening but on a lower level of severity, and that a mind manipulator, the Ambassadors, or maybe a scientist might be suspected to have caused it."

Anna cackles. "Repeating what the Leaguers told you isn't sufficient, _Aurora_. Please," she mocks, "take this seriously." In a flash of fire Anna is right in Sandman's face and she grabs the meta by the throat. "I'm going to ask again, and you better tell me what I want to know." She tilts Sandman's head up and holds the burrower above her mouth. "Because simulation or not," she chuckles, "these things can tear your insides to shreds."

Sandman's crying in earnest again. Anna doubts she'll be able to hold her own weight soon.

"Tell me," Anna says, "what do you know about the operation involving the kidnapping and mental torture of Earth citizens?"

"I don't know anything else!" Sandman sobs. "I keep to myself— no, no _please don't!_ "

Anna lowers the burrower at a steady pace. "Last chance," she says. The burrower lashes out and cuts Sandman's lip. Sandman's knees weaken but Anna keeps her upright by her neck.

The sleep meta slams her eyes shut. "I haven't talked to another meta in months," she weeps. "I've been going around helping the heavily traumatized population sleep."

Anna sucks in a harsh breath. "Why?"

"Because it's hard to sleep around people who scream themselves awake from nightmares," Sandman sobs.

"Well," Anna murmurs, crushing the sand burrower, "now I feel like an ass." She releases her hold on Sandman's neck. "Vikke, disperse simulation. Load base memory, four years ago: Arson demands creation of suppressant."

Sandman falls to her ass and rubs her throat. She's trembling and watching the changes around her like a frightened animal.

The scenery changes to a decent sized room with a massive half moon console on one wall that extends from the floor to the ceiling. On the floor in front of the console is Arson in her old skin tight outfit, clutching at her gut. Her outfit is torn in several places, but the thing that's out of place is the sweater tied around her waist, covering her lower back and ass.

" _Make the antidote," Arson orders. Her body spasms and an agonized groan forces its way past her mouth._

" _An antidote isn't possible," Calhoun says from the speakers._

" _Then make a suppressant!" Arson shouts. She releases a gurgled scream. "Do whatever you need to do! Just make it_ stop! _"_

Sandman frowns and leans forward. "What is this?"

"What happened after THFS was used on me," Anna answers. "This is a couple days after the first Incident." It's hard to watch, but she doesn't stop the 3D render of the event as a measure of good faith.

" _Okay, okay, I'm working on it," Calhoun says. Her voice is panicked. "What happened to you? Arson,_ Arson _please talk to me, what's going on?"_

 _Arson clutches at her head and moans. "No, no, no, not again, please, not again_. Go away! You're not real! _" She sobs and she grasps blindly for someone who isn't there. "Jen, you need to run. Athena's going to kill you." Arson jerks as if she's been shot and her eyes widen. "_ No! _" Arson wails, her eyes focusing on something that no one else can see._

" _Hold out a little longer, okay?" Calhoun says._ Now _she's panicked. "I can finish mixing something up in a couple minutes."_

_Arson starts hyperventilating. Traces of red start edging into her irises._

_Tarzan bolts into the room and stops dead in her tracks. "Arson?" she exclaims. Arson glares at her, and Tarzan falls into a tense fighting stance. "Calhoun, sound the intruder alarm."_

" _Tarzan, you need to get out of here," Calhoun warns._

 _Arson pushes to her feet without taking her eyes from the junior leaguer. Her showing expression has turned from distressed to a hyper focus that makes the Elite look more than a little unhinged. "You're dead," Arson growls. "I killed you. Four times. You're_ dead _."_

_Tarzan takes a step back. "General! Shadow!" she shouts. "Calhoun, sound the damn alarm!"_

_The alarm sounds, and Arson's pupils narrow into pinpricks. In an instant she has Tarzan pinned against the wall. "You won't sic them on me again!" Arson roars. "I won't let you!"_

"Stop recording," Anna says. She stares at the stilled image. She walks towards herself and stares into her own eyes. "The junior leaguers tried to talk me down once the other two arrived," Anna explains, "but I didn't know what was real and what was fake. I didn't believe anything they told me. I ended up knocking them out, giving myself the suppressant, and leaving."

Sandman stands and walks towards the simulation as well. She keeps her distance from Anna. "Why are you showing me this?"

Anna taps the stilled Arson on the forehead. "I was a lucky outlier of the THFS experiments, if it can be considered lucky at all," she says. She punches the image of herself so hard Arson's head explodes into pixels, only to be restored a second later. She circles herself and Tarzan. "Everyone else's personality change was permanent, but mine wasn't.

"My personalities split," Anna continues, "leaving the regular me mostly intact and creating a hellish version we call Red Arson." She pauses behind the stilled Arson and stares at the sweater tied around her waist. Anna's expression flashes with hatred. "It was a curse. I lived in a hell I created and everyone despised me, including myself. But one thing stuck in my head, forcing me to keep going."

Anna turns to Sandman with a grave expression. "The Ambassadors would come back and do this again. Maybe they're _already_ doing it again." Anna clenches her jaw and looks away. "We know they're on their way. It wouldn't be a stretch to assume they have non-Ambassador affiliates doing their bidding here on Earth until they return."

Sandman stares at her. It looks like she wants to say something but she's too scared to speak.

Anna waves her hand in a 'go ahead' motion. "Say whatever you'd like. I never had any intention of harming you." _Much_.

Sandman frowns and crosses her arms over her chest. "You didn't answer my question. Why did you show me this?"

Anna stares at the floor. "As a peace offering, I suppose," she says. She looks at Sandman and huffs a soft sigh through her nose. "I'm sorry. Innocent or not, you'll have to stay locked up for another two weeks."

Sandman's frown deepens. "Why?"

Anna twitches an empty smile and shrugs. "If I did this the way I should have, I would have kept up the villain act for a couple weeks to ensure your truthfulness." She chuckles. "If Black Dragon could see me now she would call me soft." Her eyes soften. "I fucking miss her." She shakes her head. "Sorry. Vikke, get rid of this shit and open the door."

The scenery dissolves and the door slides open. Ariel pokes her head around the corner, her head tilted like a curious puppy.

"Can you both come in here?" Anna asks.

Ariel's eyes light up and she skips in. Rapunzel follows with less enthusiasm. The door slides shut behind her.

"Wassup?" Ariel chirps, throwing an arm around Anna's shoulders and nuzzling their foreheads together. Sandman stares at the display like she doesn't understand what's happening.

"We need to decide what we're going to do with Sandman for the next couple weeks," Anna says.

Ariel's expression turns thoughtful. "She can share my room." Her eyes light up. "Yeah, that's a great idea!" She grins at Anna. "She'll be confined to the Elite section until we sort through everything, and I get company!"

"Elites?" Sandman asks, tentative.

"Yeah!" Ariel laughs. "I'm one of the new Elites!" She poses. "I can finally complete my goal of becoming the official face of love!"

Anna laughs. The sound makes Sandman jolt in surprise.

"Say that enough in front of a camera and I'm sure the media will go along with it," Anna chuckles. "Also, I like your idea about the Elite quarters. Not your room," she says before Ariel can cheer, "but we can give her a temporary set up in a free room."

Rapunzel hums and taps the portable base console against her leg. "That solves one problem and creates another," she says. "Sure, the rest of the League can't access her, but Sandman will get direct access to us. Maybe even out of costume."

"Well I hope so, I can't feel y'all as well when we're in armour," Ariel chortles. She grins at Sandman. "Do you like hugs?"

"Um, yes?" Sandman says, tentative. She glances at Anna as if expecting her to retaliate.

"Do you prefer them with or without clothes?" Ariel asks.

Sandman's eyes widen and she takes half a step back.

"Don't be alarmed," Anna says. "This is an innocent question. Poseidon has a habit of not getting dressed."

Ariel's lips curl into an amused smile. "I still don't get why I have to wear clothes to eat breakfast, of all things."

"Custom, mainly," Rapunzel says. "If you wanted to stop getting dressed in the morning I'm sure the other Elites wouldn't mind."

Ariel's eyes light up. "Fuck yeah, no clothes!" She grabs at the clamps on her chest piece, but Anna catches her hands before Ariel can release any of them.

"Maybe do that after you get Sandman's answer," Anna suggests. In truth, she just doesn't want Ariel stripping and then lugging all her gear back to the Elite section. It would confuse the hell out of the other heroes. Anna turns to Sandman. "Clothed or not?"

Sandman glances between Anna and Ariel as if she thinks this is a trick. "Clothed," she says.

Ariel's shoulders slump. Anna grins and wraps an arm around Ariel's waist. "Sorry," the villain says, "but I guess you have to pretend to be normal for a little while longer."

Ariel raises an eyebrow and grins. "Are you insinuating that someone in the League is actually normal?"

Anna blinks. "Good point." She shakes her head and turns to Sandman. "I should have asked this before"—and that alone makes the dream meta stiffen—"but have you looked into the dreams of the current League heroes?"

Sandman pales. "Y-Yes," she stutters, and her lack of confidence almost makes Anna wince.

"In those dreams, did you figure out their real names or see full faces? If so, for how many?" Anna asks.

A sickly look crosses Sandman's face. "Names and faces, for all of them." She looks at Rapunzel. "Except for her." She snaps her focus back to Anna. She's trembling again. "It's been a while, though, and the details are a little hazy. I can't even remember all the names by heart." She winces. "But I'd recognise the names if I saw or heard them."

"Well, that solves that!" Anna laughs, trying her best to ease Sandman's fear. She glances at Rapunzel. "If she already knows who we are, and she'll know who you are after the official announcement, then putting her in the Elite wing isn't a problem. Unless, of course, there's a better alternative?"

Rapunzel lifts the portable base console and inputs commands with her exposed hand. Her hand pauses a couple times while she reads information, Anna assumes, before she lowers the console with a sigh. "I don't see a viable alternative." ' _That doesn't put_ your _plan at risk_ ' remains unsaid, but Anna hears it in the healer's tone.

"Cool." Anna waves to the door. "Can you two take her and get her symbol imprinted on a room? Oh, Vikke," she says, tilting her head up, "edit Sandman's permissions. She's only allowed in the Elite room dedicated to her, the gym, and the kitchen slash dining room area. She is _not_ allowed to leave the Elite section."

"Confirmed," Vikke says. She never was a big talker.

"What are you going to do?" Rapunzel asks.

"I need to report what I learned to Blizzard, which was basically nothing," Anna says, "and I have to make a call to the Ultimate heaven shithead."

Ariel frowns. "I don't like the idea of you talking to her. Can I call instead?"

Anna's eyebrows furrow and she opens her mouth to answer when Rapunzel interrupts her with:

"Don't shoot her down with something noble. Even I would call that asshole in your place, and I don't even like you right now."

Anna scratches the back of her neck. "I was going to say, 'if I don't learn how to deal with her now I never will', actually." She twitches a tentative smile. "You know, that whole 'face your fear' thing so it won't cripple me or make me burn my shirt off?"

"Burn your shirt off?" Ariel asks. She looks to Rapunzel. "Did that happen?"

"Oh, right," Rapunzel murmurs. "That was . . . unsettling." She sighs. "Alright, fine. We'll take Sandman."

"Page us if you need us though," Ariel adds.

"I will," Anna says. She waves to the door. "Now go on. I'll catch you up later."

"Poseidon," Rapunzel says, "can you start walking without me? I need to have a word with Anna alone."

Ariel's lips curl into a bemused smile. "Sure." She walks to Sandman and leads her forward with a guiding hand to the lower back. "If you were in my dreams," she says as they walk away, "does that mean you've seen Tridium? What do you think of it? It's beautiful, right?"

"I've never been in your memories," Sandman admits. "I only know your name because it was mentioned in another leaguer's memory."

"Oh," Ariel says. She rubs the back of her neck. "Would you like to see it? After we remove the suppression items, of course."

Sandman gives Ariel a peculiar look. "I don't see why not."

"Yes!" Ariel whoops. "This is going to be great! I lived in a castle and I had a best friend named Max—that wasn't his full name but we called him that anyway—and he was trained in the same class as me—" The door shuts behind the pair.

Anna blows out an astonished huff of air. "Aurora won't even have to get into Ariel's dreams to learn about her."

"What did you do to her?" Rapunzel clips.

For a second Anna only stares at the healer, trying to understand the topic change. "Ah," she breathes when she gets it. "I wasn't overly physical and I didn't use my powers, if that's what you're worried about."

Rapunzel jabs a finger towards the door. "She had developing bruises on her neck, a cut on her lip, and she was afraid to even be in the same room as you," she accuses. She straightens. "I could attribute that to the fact that she just had to deal with Arson in the flesh with no way of defending herself, but it was more than that, wasn't it?"

Anna sucks in a breath and nods. "I know from experience that anyone's worst enemy is their own mind," she says, choosing her words. "All I did was make Aurora focus on her fears surrounding torture by changing the room's layout to a torture chamber and, of course, acting like a villain."

"Fucking hell," Rapunzel hisses.

"I didn't use my powers on her," Anna says. "I know that doesn't make what I did any better, but I don't take it back. The Elites need a Black Dragon, and I'm the closest thing you've got."

Rapunzel shakes her head and starts walking away, before whirling back around. "You have the ways of the old Elites so stuck in your head that you can't adapt. You're trying to recreate a system that ended in disaster under the assumption that it was a fluke that the old way failed."

"We had protocols in place for everything," Anna ensures. "Me being the only living Elite had nothing to do with the remainder of the League not getting the access they needed."

"No, it was _Reaper_ threatening Calhoun to keep her mouth shut," Rapunzel spits. "But do you think that would have mattered at all if the junior leaguers were in the loop? No, it wouldn't, because they would have known everything the Elites did."

"They were kids!" Anna defends. "The shit the Elites dealt with wasn't meant for teenagers to know. We never even told them we killed metas! I mean, they figured it out anyway, but we never discussed it with them because we didn't want them to feel obligated to become murderers."

" _You_ were a kid when you became an Elite!" Rapunzel shouts. "How can you refuse to make exceptions when _you_ were an exception?"

"I didn't want them to be conditioned like I was!" Anna bellows. Tears burn in her eyes but she grits her teeth, because she won't back down. "I joined the League because I loved Jen and Athena was my fucking hero. But I wasn't trained with choices. Hell, for the first year I was basically just trained by simulations. And automated voices kept drilling the motto of the Elites into my head, because Jen and James thought that the only way I'd remain loyal was if I believed everything they did.

"I didn't want to be a murderer," Anna says, "but they made me believe it was necessary. It was the only way to achieve peace. It was the only way to be accepted by the hero I'd idolized for years." Anna growls to clear the lump rising in her throat. "If the junior leaguers were told any Elite business then they would have been put through the same type of training, and I couldn't let that happen."

Rapunzel stares for a couple seconds. "You were leader of the League," she says, but there's doubt in her voice. "Couldn't you force a change in training?"

"I could've, but not by much," Anna says. "The Elites were built out of hardasses. I might have been able to bring Elinor to my side, but even she would have agreed that teaching 'murder is necessary' is a requirement for this type of work." She pinches the bridge of her nose. "Don't get me wrong. I do believe that killing can be a benefit in some scenarios. But I don't believe it should be taught like it's as common as a goddamn handshake."

Rapunzel steps forward and rests her bare hand on Anna's shoulder. "Okay, so maybe your reasons back then make sense," she relents. "You were trying to protect them, for good reason, but that backfired, and now the League doesn't have kids anymore. It's made up of traumatized adults who already know the consequences of failure. Why do you insist on keeping them in the dark?"

"Because the old Elites were right about one thing," Anna says. "Loyalty can't be determined in peace. The metas who make up the Elites right now have seen the darkness and then looked at me, the person they blamed for everything, and realised I'm not the problem they need to fix."

"Why can't it work the same with the others?" Rapunzel pries.

"It _will_ ," Anna says, "but if you recall, you, Belle, and Mulan didn't come around the moment you found out who I was. In fact, the exact opposite happened. I expect the same thing to occur when I tell the rest of the League, but by that point it won't matter. I'll be 'dead', they'll be made Elites, they'll learn what really happened in my history, and they'll either still be glad I'm dead, or they'll wish they did things differently.

"All of this, _all_ of this," Anna insists, talking over Rapunzel, "is a way of giving everyone in the League a choice. What they choose will determine the type of Elite they're going to be and yes, that will cause a friction that the old Elites never had, but that's okay. I don't want this batch of Elites to be like the old one. I just need to know where the non-Elites stand before they have access to protocols that can destroy us all."

Rapunzel grunts and rubs the back of her neck. "What does that have to do with withholding general information, though?"

"It's just form of containment," Anna says. "It prevents the individual Elites from spilling bits of information they don't think is important by itself, but could potentially be pooled together to make a whole picture. You're right, the wide blanket I've thrown for 'no talk' topics is old Elite extreme and may not be necessary. But you have to understand that when people figure out information they know they were denied, it'll exacerbate the us versus them mentality and put the league at risk of ripping itself apart.

"Which brings us back to my original plan," Anna says. "No regular leaguer learns anything if not from my mouth, and they all get access to Elite level information at the same time."

Rapunzel groans. "I wish you would have just explained this from the start," she says. "It beats the hell out of 'do what I say or I'll take the League out by the knees again'."

Anna winces. "Sorry. Old Elite habit."

"Habit of what? Being a dick?"

"Immediate damage control, actually."

"So, being a dick?"

"Basically," Anna chuckles. She shakes her head. "God. The more I think about it, the more I realise that the old Elites were tyrants."

"'Were'?" Rapunzel repeats. "I'm pretty sure an old Elite tyrant is standing right in front of me."

Anna grins. "Hey, I'm working on it."

"Yeah, you are. And I'm sorry for, you know, making your life more difficult than it already is."

"That's fine. I'd prefer my life go to hell than any of yours," Anna replies without thought. "It's not like my life has much to salvage anymore." She pulls out her phone, types in her password, and presses her thumb in the corner for a fingerprint scan.

"Why do you have to say things like that?"

Anna glances at the healer. "Because it's true. Or, at least, it used to be." She looks back to her phone and selects Emma's number. "I didn't have anything before I came back to the League. Then Ariel forced her way into my life and changed everything." She blinks tears from her eyes. "Do you know how strange it is to have friends again? I thought I lost my right to all of that."

"God, you're depressing. I don't know how Ariel deals with you," Rapunzel says, with a forced humour Anna jumps on in a heartbeat.

"Through persistence and bribes, mainly," Anna jests.

Rapunzel chuckles. She turns her head towards Anna's phone. "I guess I'll leave you to it."

"Actually," Anna says, "I would appreciate it if you stayed. If you want to, that is."

Rapunzel barks a forced laugh and throws a loose punch into Anna's shoulder. "Sure. I hear I'm great at moral support when I'm not being an ass."

With a grin, Anna dials and brings the phone up to her ear. It rings four times before anyone answers.

" _This is a surprise_ ," Emma says. " _I thought you didn't want anything to do with me?_ "

"I don't, but the universe has other plans," Anna drones. Her voice doesn't shake, and she mentally pats herself on the back. "I saw the base's magical energy lines yesterday. Will you explain it to me, yes or no?"

Emma sucks in a sharp breath, as if that was the last thing she expected to hear. " _Oh, wow, so soon_ ," she murmurs. She airs a humourless laugh. " _I'll do you one better and give you direct access to the magical core, but you'd need to let me into the base again_."

Anna's lips tighten into a thin line, and she tries not to focus on the dread pooling in her gut. "Why do you need to be here?"

" _Because my blood and heartbeat are the only things that'll open the door_ ," Emma says. " _I won't be able to come by for the next couple days, though. Is, augh, where's my calendar? Hm. Is this coming Thursday okay?_ "

"No day where you're involved in my life is okay," Anna retorts, "but I'm willing to tolerate your visit on that day, yes."

Emma clears her throat, uncomfortable for no reason Anna can fathom. " _Right. Will you be sending a League ship to get me or will I be expected to get there myself?_ "

"I'll send a ship," Anna says. "The last thing I need is someone seeing Archangel of all people flying through the sky."

" _Sounds fair. Anything else?_ "

Anna purses her lips, considering. She could just hang up now and prevent herself more misery, or she could be responsible. She sighs. "Do you know anything about the Old God on Asgard?"

Emma hums. " _The basics, I suppose. The royals, who are famed to have seen him, are tight lipped, and there's no text on him. I did figure out that the Old God summons royals at any time in their life to perform one task, and that one task determines whether or not they get to remain royal. There's a temple on the planet that the royals go to when summoned and they can be accompanied by a parent or guardian figure_.

" _These two people will be met in the grounds at the main temple gates by a sentient, ageless gryphon, of sorts. I'm not sure what happens, but after the pair is greeted one will go into the temple while the other is forced to leave the temple grounds. After a while the tasked royal will exit the temple and, usually, they leave the planet_.

" _I tried tracking a few royals_ ," Emma admits, " _but I could never get a fix on them after the task was initiated. It's like it gave them some sort of immunity to my powers. Looking back, it makes sense. The only thing strong enough to block an Ultimate is an Ultimate, and it certainly wasn't Reaper_." A voice pipes up in the background, and Emma's voice fades as she says, " _I'm just talking with Calhoun about Asgard_."

Anna frowns. That's a strange thing to lie about.

" _Asgard sucks and it can choke on my fucking dick_ ," Darryl shouts.

Anna throws a hand over her mouth and gags. Bile burns the back of her throat but she swallows it. She won't throw up because of these two again. She _won't_. Rapunzel reaches out and squeezes Anna's shoulder in a show of support.

" _Very helpful, honey, thank you_ ," Emma says but, despite her diplomatic tone, she sounds irritated. " _Sorry about him_ ," she says, lower. " _I was just going to say that I suspect the Old God is Alpha Alpha, or at least one of his kin_."

"I see. So our suspicions aren't unfounded after all," Anna murmurs. "Anyway, thank you. It hasn't been a pleasure. Please wear a bag over your face on Thursday."

" _Yeah, sure, I guess_ ," Emma says.

Anna hangs up before either of them can say more or, worse, before Darryl shouts anything else.

"So?" Rapunzel asks.

"She thinks the Old God is Alpha Alpha, which is on par with your initial assumption," Anna says. "Also learnt a couple new things with the process about how he gives tasks to royals, which I'll tell you right after I get my stomach under control."

Rapunzel steps forward and gives Anna an awkward half hug that Anna suspects neither of them likes, but she appreciates the effort.

"I'm sorry you still have to deal with her," Rapunzel says.

"Yeah, same." Anna stares at her phone for a moment. Her eyebrows furrow. "She told her husband she was talking to Calhoun instead of me. Why would she do that?"

"That's . . . odd," Rapunzel mutters. "But I wouldn't give her the benefit of the doubt."

"I don't even give her the benefit of having morals," Anna scoffs. She puts her phone back in her pocket. "It's just bizarre. I don't see what she has to gain by lying about this."

"An objective we can't see," Rapunzel says. She squeezes her arm around Anna's shoulders once before backing out of touching range. "I'll go tell Calhoun about this while you talk to Elsa. Who knows, maybe Calhoun will have some insight on it."

"If she doesn't, maybe tell her to get some by Thursday," Anna suggests. "That's when the she-witch is coming."

"I see," Rapunzel all but snarls. She shakes her head. "I guess I'll help Calhoun on that front then, since you and Belle have Alpha Alpha covered."

"As much as we're able," Anna allows. She starts walking towards the exit. Rapunzel follows her. "If you could, arrange for alerts in the Elite wing when Sandman is entering an area another Elite is already in. To prevent us talking about things we don't want her to know."

"Couldn't you do that right now by talking to Vikke?"

"I could, but I'd prefer someone who's thinking a bit more clearly than me to do it instead." Anna taps her temple, and the memories inside scream at the disturbance. "Too many things distracting me. I don't want to risk making a mistake."

The training room doors slide open at the Elites' proximity and the two walk out, only to almost be tackled to the floor.

A surprised whoosh of air leaves Anna's lungs as she grabs hold of Esmeralda's torso and steadies them both.

Esmeralda lurches back with wide, haunted eyes. She takes one look at Anna and clasps her hands on the villain's shoulders.

"I know them!" Esmeralda shouts. Her voice trembles. Anna blinks. Is she sober for once?

"Hold up," Rapunzel interjects in a soothing tone. "Who are you talking about?"

Esmeralda's gaze snaps to Rapunzel. "Landalis," she chokes. Her eyes widen more at the name and her breath becomes shallow.

Adrenaline bursts through Anna's system. "You know Moana?" she asks. What the hell did that woman do? Anna grits her teeth. Is Moana the reason Esmeralda became an alcoholic?

Esmeralda shakes her head with more force than necessary. "No, no, I know _Aesgrad_ Landalis."

Anna's heart falls like a pit into her stomach. "Did you say Aesgrad? Are you sure?"

Esmeralda nods enthusiastically, but her face is pale. "Yeah, I'm sure. I'll never forget the bastard. Except when I'm shit faced. But I still felt like something was wrong when I heard the name. That's why I'm sober. To remember." She shakes her head and scratches at her bicep. "It's horrible. I need a drink. Do you have any liquor on you?"

"Um, no," Rapunzel says. She turns to Anna. "Have you heard of him before?"

Anna barks an unnerved laugh. "Not quite. I'll explain later." Right. Explain that her father made her middle name his fucking first name like a brand. Like Anna needed any more of those. "Allure, how do you know him?"

Esmeralda blinks at her hero name before understanding washes over her. "Right. We have guests," she mumbles, more to herself than anyone else. She clears her throat. "He's the bastard my father worked for, for like, two months. He created the Beast of France, and turned my father into— into— _god_ are you sure neither of you have booze on you? Please, I need it."

Anna cups Esmeralda's elbows and forces a calming smile. "There's a liquor in the Elite kitchen that will knock you flat on your ass with two shots, and I'll give you some if you tell me everything you know."

"Don't encourage her drinking," Rapunzel hisses.

"Well none of you _dis_ courage it which is just as fucking bad, so I don't give a fuck," Anna retorts without taking her eyes from Esmeralda's. She lowers her tone and asks, "Do we have a deal?"

A harsh swallow bobs Esmeralda's throat. "Yeah," she croaks. "I'll tell you everything."


	28. The Best Kept Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Waela (FFnet), Elsannity (FFnet), Justherefortheride (FFnet), and SexyMist (Discord) for betaing my work.
> 
> * * *

Seven Years Ago 

The League headquarters is bigger than Shang thought it would be. He frowns and spins on his heel, taking stock of the living room and kitchen area, separated by only one wall. Why would two people need this much space? And it's not even and area Hades or Athena use. Even if the pair hadn't told him as much, he would have figured it out by looking at it. No personal touches. A tad dusty. Doesn't look lived in.

Mulan, in full costume like Shang is, pops her head around the wall blocking the view of the kitchen and grins. "This is _awesome_ ," she says.

Shang can't help but smile. "It is," he agrees. It's much better than their previous base of operations, if their bedrooms could even be called that.

Shang and Mulan live in the same neighbourhood back in China. They decided to team up and help people using their abilities, but they didn't really have a means for it. Their outfits are made of items they found in a cheap costume store, and their school schedule didn't leave much room for acting like heroes. That, and they aren't very proficient with their abilities. Or, at least, they didn't trust themselves in situations more dangerous than average fistfights tend to be.

That's not to say they aren't capable, because they are, but they're not invulnerable. Sure, Mulan can phase in and out of shadows and nothing can hurt her while she's incorporeal, but she can still get shot when she's solid. Shang isn't as worried about dying since he can cheat death, but it doesn't come without a price.

Whenever Shang is injured, he can sacrifice memories to patch wounds that would otherwise kill him. He has an above average physical regeneration rate, according to Athena, but that doesn't always save him. Just last week Mulan had to re-teach him the basic principles of the Pythagorean theorem because he gave up the memory of learning it by accident. He tries to pick memories that don't matter, but in the heat of the moment all he can think about are memories he wants to keep, and it fucks him over hard sometimes. He hopes Hades or Athena can train him to control his thoughts better in battle.

Mulan walks over and leans against the back of the couch between her and Shang. "I kinda wish we could live here full time. This area alone is basically the size of my parents apartment."

"I just wish we lived closer," Shang says. Even with League ships, a one way trip can take up to an hour and a half, which is time taken away from training. He suspects they can do homework on the trip here and back though, if they aren't too excited or exhausted to focus on it.

Mulan shrugs. "I'm sure we'll be able to work something out. These are the _Protectors_ , for crying out loud, they're basically legends."

Shang smiles. " _We're_ Protectors now, too, and I don't believe we're legends." Something crosses his mind and he hums. "Neither is Arson, for that matter." She was a Junior leaguer like they are, as far as he's aware, until she became an Elite a month after Hades first contacted Mulan and Shang half a year ago. _Half a year_. Shang still doesn't understand why it took so long to finalize their membership.

Mulan laughs. "Are you living with your head under a rock? People _love_ Arson. She's the reason the League is paying more attention to our galaxy, and even more to our particular solar system."

"Being loved and being a legend are two different things," Shang argues. "It's the same with us loving a singer or an actor. They may be renowned while they're alive, but the memory of them will fade. Legends are remembered throughout time, like Julius Caesar."

"I was going to say Reaper and Archangel to go with the superhero analogy, but sure," Mulan says with a smile.

Shang frowns. It's odd, thinking about Reaper. He was a meta as strong as they come, yet a team of weaker metas was able to kill him. Shang wonders if a similar fate awaits him.

Shang rubs the back of his neck and looks around. "I wonder where they are."

"On a mission?" Mulan supposes.

"Yeah, but _where_ ," Shang stresses. "Earth isn't the only planet they attend to, so I wonder if they're here at all."

"Does it matter?" Mulan poses. "Either way they're dealing with something, and if they didn't put it off to meet us I bet it's because they couldn't."

"Computer," a voice in the corridor says, "can you tell me if the detection system is working more efficiently than it did before the recent upgrade?"

"One point zero three percent worse than before," Computer's automated voice replies.

"Well, shit."

A woman strolls through the living room pinching the bridge of her nose. She's not looking in the Junior leaguers' direction.

Shang takes a moment to take stock of the woman. She's wearing dusty trousers and a hoodie with a tool belt hanging from a shoulder, and her red hair is tied into a high ponytail. She doesn't look more than four or five years older than Shang is, if he were to guess.

"Calculate probable cause," the woman continues. She disappears into the kitchen.

"Upgrade is less effective than previous installation," Computer replies.

"Yeah, I know _that_ much. Can you tell me _why?_ "

"Error. Insufficient data."

"How in the— _how?_ "

Computer doesn't reply.

"Ugh, fuck, okay, start running an active scan on all stats you can record regarding the piece of tech I just installed. After you've compiled enough data to compare it to another set of similar data with an acceptable margin of error, let me know and I'll reinstall the tech I just took out."

Computer beeps in what Shang assumes is confirmation.

A low stream of steady curses spills from the woman's mouth. Something slams shut. She exits the kitchen with a untoasted bagel in one hand and a water bottle in another. She stops dead in her tracks when she spies Shang and Mulan.

The woman sucks in a sharp breath through her nose. "From bad, to worse." She tilts her head to the ceiling. "Computer, how long until Athena gets back?"

"Less than two minutes."

"A-a-and," the woman drawls, "from worse to horrible." She stuffs the bagel in her mouth and glares at the far wall as she chews. After doing this two more times, she gazes at the young heroes with some semblance of composure, even if she still looks irritated enough to blow a gasket. "I thought you two weren't supposed to arrive until tomorrow? That's what my work notice said. 'Don't enter main area come the seventh because new League members are arriving.'"

Shang and Mulan share a look, then she checks her phone. Shang looks over her shoulder. His heart sinks into his stomach. It's the sixth.

"I swore it was today," Mulan murmurs. She turns to Shang. "We both confirmed it was today, right?"

Confirmed or not, they were granted the access to call a ship so that they weren't dependent on the hectic schedules of the Elites. It's more than possible Shang and Mulan messed up.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Shang takes out his own phone and logs in to the encrypted email the Elites gave them. They are supposed to get League phones at some point to ensure a fully secured connection, but if they just messed up as bad as he thinks they did . . .

"They postponed until tomorrow," Shang croaks. "Message sent two hours ago."

"Shit," Mulan hisses.

The older woman groans and leans against the wall. "You're going to get in less trouble than I am, I assure you. Computer, why didn't you inform me these guys were still on their way?"

"You told me not to disturb you for anything less than an Elite emergency."

"Fuck, I did," the woman utters. She barks a laugh, but there's no humour to it. "Athena is going to beat my ass to hell for this." She stares at her bagel. She doesn't look keen on eating it anymore.

"I don't understand, why would you get in trouble more than us?" Mulan asks. "We're the ones who neglected to make sure the meeting was a go."

"Because you're new and you're unaware of how the Elites operate," the woman says. "I'm going to get in trouble because they briefed me on this, and they expect me to watch out for discrepancies." She scowls at herself. "I turned off alerts so I wouldn't get surprised and muck something up with the sensitive tech they asked me to look into, and that's more damning than anything else. Fuck, I hope she doesn't punch me."

That's a disturbing thought. Shang frowns. Does Athena have anger management issues? "Are you a hero here?" he asks.

"Hmm?" the woman hums. She shakes her head as she processes the question. "Not quite. I'm a civilian contractor. Been with the Elites for, god, three years now? Sometime before Arson became a hero, at any rate."

"Really?" Mulan asks. She walks around the couch to sit on the arm of it. "So you knew what she was like before the League even introduced her as a member?"

"I'm not authorized to talk about the Elites," the woman says. "I'm sure answering 'yes' or 'no' in this case wouldn't be a crime, but I'd rather boost my chances of survival rather than sabotage them."

Shang's eyes widen. "They'd _kill_ you over this?"

The woman blinks. "No, sorry. Figure of speech."

 _Well that's horrible_ , Shang can't help but think. Who in their right mind would immediately use _murder_ for an analogy, and be wholly unaware that they're doing it? Suddenly he wonders if being here is such a good idea.

"So," Mulan asks, "if you're not a hero and you can't talk about heroes, then who are you?"

"Yes, who _are_ you?"

The woman goes as white as a sheet. She turns towards the entryway. Athena stands there with her shoulders back and her hands clenched into fists. Shang can't see her expression because of her armour, but he can guess that she's _pissed_.

"Uuh," the woman utters, "I haven't told them. You didn't prepare me for this scenario. I didn't know what to do."

"I didn't prepare you because it wasn't supposed to happen," Athena growls. She points to the hallways behind her. "Get. I'll address your foolishness later."

The woman flinches as if she were slapped.

Shang steps forward. "It's not her fault. We forgot to check the email you gave us before we left. She didn't know we were coming."

"She _should_ have known," Athena grinds. "Tell me, why _didn't_ you?"

The woman winces. "I started working on some sensitive tech and I didn't want to get distracted by anything that wasn't a strict emergency."

Athena's armour quivers. Shang suspects the woman is trembling with rage.

"You turned off alerts," Athena accuses.

"You wanted me to look at the system, and you said the Junior leaguers weren't coming today," the woman defends, but her voice is weak. "I thought—"

"You thought _what?_ That it would be a _good_ idea to half blind yourself when you were the only person in the base? That it would be a _good_ idea to assume Shadow and General got our message in time, or heeded it if they did? That it'd be a _good_ idea to show your face outside the Elite area when I explicitly told you not to?"

The woman curls in on herself. There's tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she chokes.

"Athena, mate, back off," Hades says, clapping a hand twice on Athena's shoulder. "The little squirt didn't mean anything bad by it, and you're scaring the piss out of her." He takes a moment to examine the contractor. "Is this really the type of relationship you want to have with her?"

This time Athena recoils as if she were struck.

"Hey, kid," Hades says, walking towards the contactor. She pushes herself further into the wall as if trying to get away from him. He sighs. "Jesus, Athena, you have her frightened to death."

"She messed up," Athena offers, but she's lost the forcefulness she had before.

"And she did the best she could in a tough situation," Hades replies. He turns back to Athena. "It's _fine_ , alright? She isn't dead or dying. Let's just count our blessings."

Athena scoffs. "That's rich, isn't it? Coming from you?"

Hades chortles. "I'm a fucking angel, what are you talking about?"

Athena huffs and leans against the doorframe. "You are the furthest thing, _Hades_."

"Yo, hell is led by a fallen angel if you believe Christianity," Hades says. "Who's to say I'm not that dashing angel?"

"Lucifer and Hades are from two different religions," Athena deadpans.

"Maybe I changed my name to throw you off. Boom! I win!" Hades tips his head back and laughs.

Shang glances between the two Elites. This isn't what he expected of the pair. If anything, he feels as if their personalities are reversed for what their hero names symbolize. He glances back to the contractor and blinks. She isn't there. He turns to Mulan to say as much, only to find that she isn't there, either.

"Oh, for crying out loud," Shang hisses.

Both Hades and Athena turn his way.

"What was that?" Athena asks.

Shang raises his arms in a helpless gesture. "I noticed that tech woman was gone and when I turned to tell Shadow, she was missing, too."

Athena pushes from the wall, her head whipping this way and that. "Anna?" she calls. "Anna! Damn it. Computer, find Anna." She turns and bolts through the hallway before Computer can even answer her.

Hades sighs. "God damn that woman can be dramatic," he mutters. Shang doesn't suspect he was meant to hear that, so he remains silent. "Computer, locate Shadow and tell me where she is."

"ECA-zero-one hasn't yet finished the search program for shadow forms," Computer says. "I cannot locate Shadow while she's incorporeal until that upgrade is complete."

"I thought it was already done?"

"It was, but was only eighty-seven point six percent accurate. ECA-zero-one was trying to improve that percentage with her work today."

Hades reaches up and rubs his face, so far as Shang can tell. It's hard to say with the shadowy mist obscuring all of the Elite's features except his eyes.

"So," Hades says, "what you're telling me is that Athena wanted to rip Anna a new asshole over trying to improve security before the new heroes arrived?"

Shang hopes Hades didn't expect an answer, because Computer doesn't give him one.

" _Damn_ that woman," Hades mumbles. Shang keeps his mouth shut. "Computer, make a base wide announcement. Tell Shadow to report back to her previous location _immediately_ , and make a private announcement to Athena, explaining what you just told me."

Hades waits while Computer makes the first announcement. Five seconds later, Mulan pops up from the other end of the couch, looking guilty.

Hades sucks in a harsh breath and lets it out in a huff. "I'll be honest, kids, this isn't the best time to be here. I'm sorry your first experience with us is this stupid mess, but we can't have you guys here until we sort it out."

Shang's gut twists. "We messed up bad, didn't we?"

Hades shrugs. "I don't give much of a damn, to be honest, but I think it's a safe bet to not want to hear Athena's thoughts on the matter until she calms down." He groans and stretches. "Why don't you two come with me to the docking area? We can talk, chill, and basically not be anal like my sister." He chuckles, but Shang doesn't see what's so funny.

"Is Athena always like that?" Shang asks. Most of their communications have been with Hades, and the few they had with Athena were so short and analytical Shang hadn't been able to pin her personality.

"Like a bitch?" Hades asks, his voice a lazy drawl. "To me, yeah. To Anna? Not so much, usually. I'm not sure what crawled up Athena's ass and died to make her so grouchy today, and frankly I don't care unless she gets up in my face about it." He waves a hand for Shang and Mulan to follow. They do.

"Where's Arson?" Mulan asks. "Can't she help smooth this over? I feel like her personality is suited for it."

"She's better at it than me, for sure, but she's not here right now," Hades says. "I'm sure Athena will be calling her in soon to discuss this grave breach of information, though." With the thick drawling sarcasm Hades employs when he talks, Shang can't tell if the hero is being serious or not.

Mulan drums her fingers on her thighs. "So, uh, are we not going to have regular training with you guys for a long time? 'Cause I was kinda looking forward to it." She sounds so insecure it hurts.

Hades hums and ruffles a hand in Mulan's hair. "I'll see what I can do, okay kid? Maybe I can travel to you guys a couple days a week to train somewhere secure if we think it'll take a while to wrap up business here."

Mulan nods. She doesn't look ecstatic at the idea, but she accepts it for what it is. A possibility.

All three step into a waiting elevator and Hades hits a button. After a moment of silence, he says, "So, General, eh? You decided to drop the 'Undead' part? Or was Athena just being, well, Athena."

"I haven't decided," Shang says. He shuffles from foot to foot. "I'm leaning towards removing it."

Shang had liked his original name, Undead General, but it sounds so stupid when heroes as prestigious as Hades and Athena are say it. Besides, maybe it was better not to advertise his main power in such a blatant manner.

Hades hums. "It may be a little confusing, having the name General but not being in charge of anything." He chuckles. "But that might work to your advantage, so either way is good, kiddo."

 _Not being in charge of anything?_ Shang wonders. "Will Shadow or I not have minor control over the Junior League?"

Hades turns his head to Shang, but he can't tell what sort of look he's getting. "The Junior leaguers will always be overseen by the Elites. Circumstances may change based on your performances, but we have no intention of letting you run yourselves until you're legal."

Shang nods. Not the answer he wanted, but he'll take it. In a way he guesses it makes sense. He and Mulan are only thirteen and fourteen, respectively, and leaving them to their own devices could be dangerous. Maybe not so much now, but when the official announcement of their League status is made they're going to be targets.

That doesn't stop it from bugging him.

The elevator opens and Hades heads into the docking bay. Shang takes a moment to look at all the ships. The 'wow' factor still hasn't left after seeing them on his way in.

The docking bay is the size of eight soccer fields, more or less, and is multiple stories high. Rows and rows of varying ship sizes and models hang from the ceiling and line the floor, leaving only the wide main walkway free.

It strikes Shang as odd that the League would have so many ships considering the number of metas in their ranks, but he doesn't voice his observation. He doesn't want to push his luck any further.

Hades stops beside one of the smaller models and pats it. "This will be your ride home. It's a little quicker than the rest, and it still has cloaking like the model you flew here." He hesitates. "You _did_ use a cloaking model, right?"

Shang's shoulders relax. This, at least, is something they couldn't have messed up. "We got whatever ship you programmed to respond to our hails, and it flew itself. I couldn't see it until it opened its doors for us, so I'm assuming it stayed invisible on our way here."

Hades nods. "Good." He gestures to the side of the craft, just as a door starts opening up. How does he do that? Or is it him at all? "I'll be in touch with you two. Try to stay away from trouble and don't get yourself killed. Really hard to train someone to be as awesome as me if they're dead."

"As awesome as you, huh?" Mulan asks as she walks towards the door. "I think I can handle that."

"Oh, I like her," Hades says with a chuckle. He turns to Shang. "And I like you too. You're a good guy. Plus you're a guy. We need more guys." He steps forward and clasps his hands on both of Shang's shoulders. "Do me a solid and listen to my advice, yeah? You might feel like you're being benched for the first few months, but we don't want you two to risk your lives, or memories, until you're properly trained to handle it."

"Sure," Shang says. He almost winces at how noncommittal it is.

Hades taps his fingers on Shang's jacket. "I get it. Not the answer you wanted. But think of it this way: you need to be trained in hand-to-hand and how to use your abilities, on top of getting better outfits. That takes time. And we will send you on missions in the meantime, just not anything that's bound to get you murdered."

Shang jolts at that. He thinks back to Anna and her morbid analogy. Is everyone who works here like that? "In the literal sense, or—"

"The literal sense," Hades confirms, and he's so damn calm about it it's unnerving. "The League isn't known for playing well in the sandbox, so to speak, so if a meta who doesn't like us gets the opportunity to remove one of our players, they're going to take it."

Shang frowns. "How much danger are we in, exactly?"

Hades shrugs. "If you listen to me and the other Elites and you keep your identity a secret, the danger is minimal." He laughs, his eyes—the only thing Shang can see in the black mist of his head—crinkle in amusement. "Trust me. We only want what's best for you."

Shang nods. He can believe that. "Okay. Thank you."

Hades lets his arms fall back to his side and steps out of the way. "Hopefully the next time you come here you'll be able to stay more than five minutes, yeah?"

It was more like half an hour, but Shang doesn't correct him. He grins instead. "I hope so." He walks to the ship's doors and waves over his shoulder. The doors shut behind him and he removes his plastic gladiator Halloween mask. Mulan is already sitting at the back of the ship with her fabric mask pooled around her neck.

Shang looks around. The ship is small. Or, at least, smaller than he thought it would be from the outside. There's enough room for the pilot, which isn't a factor in this case, and enough cargo space for three average sized people if it were empty. It isn't.

Shang squeezes into the spot beside Mulan. He can move once the ship gets up to speed, but it isn't safe to move around until then. He learned that the hard way on the way here.

They sit in silence until the ship starts moving.

"So, not exactly the welcome we were hoping for," Mulan says, "but it wasn't _bad_ , I think." Shang doesn't have the heart to correct her. Or maybe Mulan got a different impression than he did on the whole affair. He'll have to ask her later.

"Hades took a liking to you," Shang comments. "And I think he likes me, so that's something."

"So we've charmed our way into the heart of one Elite. Only two more to go."

Shang grins. "You say that like you plan a coup."

"I say that like I plan to become part of the team," Mulan says. "It's hard to do that when some members don't like you."

"I don't think Athena _dis_ likes us, per se," Shang hedges.

"She doesn't like us, either."

"We just caught her off guard, is all."

Mulan hums. "So we do our best not to do the same in the future. Be upfront and direct. Explain what we're doing if she asks."

Shang crosses his arms over his chest. "You're suggesting being an open book."

"As open as we need to be, yeah," Mulan says. "I'll try it, at least, and you can try something else. We can talk after each of our visits to figure out which method works best."

Shang grins. "It's fine. I don't have anything to hide. I'll go with your strategy. You're better at this sort of thing anyway."

Mulan laughs. "I wouldn't say I'm better. Quicker, maybe, but not better."

The ship sounds a short warning and the two brace themselves. It doesn't help. Shang half wonders if he'll ever get used to the acceleration rate.

"So," Mulan airs, after the ship's speed evens out. "We made it. We're going to be big names now."

Shang smiles. "Yeah. I guess we will be."

* * *

Present Day 

"Vikke, summon a bench on the wall closest to me," Shang says.

A bench appears without a word. New name or not, Computer is an AI of little words. Or, at least, an AI who avoids talking.

Jane, in full armour like Shang is, sinks onto the bench with a grateful moan. "Thank god."

A small smile graces Shang's lips, but he isn't sure if it reaches his eyes. He sits down beside the other meta. They've been training for the past hour or so, working on taking down an opponent without permanently harming them. It wasn't what Shang wanted to focus on, all things considered, but none of the full League members know if Rapunzel's abilities are active again.

 _Or_ , Shang thinks to himself, _if she would even find time heal us if they are_.

It's a damning thought and he almost hates himself for thinking it, but he doesn't know what game the new Elites are playing. Until he finds that out, he isn't willing to take risks.

Shang sets his shield aside, leaning it against the wall, and sheaths his sword. A sword isn't his preferred weapon, nor the advanced pistols strapped to his lower back, but he knows he can't fight every enemy in hand-to-hand combat, or win even if he could. He'll never be a powerful enough strength meta to offset his lack of other active abilities. Not when there are metas as strong or stronger and have other powers to draw on, like Ariel.

Sure, he'd be able to survive those battles at the end of the day, but he'd rather do more than that. He doesn't want to lose any more memories.

"You're stuck inside your head again," Jane comments. Shang looks over. She has her hands on her sword hilts, even though she has yet to use them. She wanted to practice maintaining her hold on hardened light in the shape of weapons for long periods of time. Shang isn't quite sure why. Jane was never bad at it to begin with.

"Just thinking," Shang says.

Jane smirks, but it feels empty. Shang wonders if she feels as lost as he does. "I figured that much," she says. "And I'm not asking you to share," she adds, when Shang opens his mouth to answer. "I just don't want you getting lost up there."

Shang takes a moment to process that, then nods. Part of him wonders if he's lost an important memory of their friendship to make Jane say this, but he dismisses it. It doesn't help him to think that way.

 _The old Elites taught me to select 'throwaway' memories in advance_ , he reminds himself. _I remember everything pertinent about my relationship with my teammates_.

"You're thinking again."

"I know," Shang says. "Sorry."

Jane shrugs. "No biggie."

Shang drums his fingers on his legs, filling the silence with the dull clicking of metal on metal. "I miss Shadow," he admits. It wasn't what he was thinking about, but it's the truth. He doesn't like thinking of her becoming an Elite and leaving him behind. They were supposed to become Elites at the same time, despite their age gap. It hurts that it didn't happen that way.

Jane stiffens for a moment, then slumps as if the fight was kicked out of her. "Yeah, me too," she whispers. She ducks her helmed head to stare at the floor, Shang assumes. He can no longer see her face. "I wonder if she would want to hang out with us one night. Maybe play a video game, or something."

"I don't know," Shang says. "I think she has her hands full."

"With Arson and those Ultimates?" Jane supposes, even though she already knows she's right. "Shit," she sighs. "I wish the Elites would just ease the fuck up and let us help."

Shang purses his lips. He thinks back to everything he can remember about Mulan. Is this type of behaviour common for her, keeping things on this scale from other League members? He doesn't feel confident enough to make a solid conclusion, and asks Jane the question instead.

"Not that I can recall," Jane says. "She's always pretty straightforward and tries getting everyone on the same page." She frowns. "Do you think she's under orders not to disclose anything?"

"It's possible," Shang says. "If she is we can ask. She's the honest sort and will tell us straight up." _I think_.

Jane nods. "That's a good idea."

Shang's shoulders relax, even though he wasn't aware he had tensed. It's almost subconscious now, worrying he remembers the wrong details about people and waiting for a backlash that may never happen. He's good at keeping all the memories he needs. It doesn't stop him from worrying.

"We can ask her now," Shang suggests, already reaching for his shield.

"She might be holed up in the Elite section," Jane says. Shang hesitates and lowers his hand back to his lap. Jane raises her head a faction. "Vikke, where is Shadow?"

"E-one-one is in her old room in the general living quarters," Vikke answers.

Jane tilts her head and sits up straight. "Really?" she murmurs. She's on her feet and heading to the door of the training room in an instant. "Monitor her and tell us if she changes location."

An affirmative beep sounds over the speakers.

Shang grabs his shield and runs after Jane. He doesn't complain about her leaving without warning. He likes that she does that. It means she trusts him to remember their working dynamic.

Shang falls into step with Jane and straps his shield to his back. "It may be better to give her a heads up," he says.

"And give her a chance to slip away?" Jane asks. "No. I'm tired of her avoiding us."

"Barging in isn't much better," Shang says. "If she doesn't want to talk with us we can't make her. It's not like we can trap her in a room."

Jane purses her lips. "If she runs we'll get Vikke to open a communication channel with her and guilt the hell out of her until she comes back."

Shang gives Jane a look. In his experience—that he remembers—Mulan isn't the type to deviate from an action without good cause. "Sure," he says instead.

Jane raises an eyebrow and looks at Shang. "You have doubts," she says. Not a question, a statement.

"I do," Shang admits.

Jane hums and turns her attention back ahead of them. "Come on then, let me hear it. Two heads are better than one."

Shang has strong doubts he counts as a full head, but he doesn't voice that. Jane would punch him if he did. "Shadow was our leader for a reason. She sets a goal and she strives for it without losing sight of everything around her. If she's avoiding us because of an aspect of the plan in play now . . ." he trails off with a shrug. "I'm just saying, if she doesn't want to talk with us, she won't."

Jane frowns, but she doesn't say anything for a long couple of seconds. Then she sighs through her nose. "You're right, of course," she says. "Maybe I'm just hoping—" She shakes her head. "I don't know. We've just been working together for so long, the three of us. Part of me hopes that counts for something."

"I'm sure it does," Shang says. "It might even be part of the reason she's avoiding us."

Jane tilts her head. "Protecting us?"

"Maybe," Shang says. In truth he doesn't know anymore than Jane does, if that. He's guessing, and he just prays he's right.

The rest of the trip is taken in silence.

When they stop in front of Mulan's room they stop to give each other a look. Vikke hasn't informed them of Mulan changing location.

Jane sucks in a harsh breath and knocks. She rests her hands on the hilts of her swords and squeezes. It looks like intimidation, but Shang knows it's an action drawn from anxiety.

Five seconds pass with no answer, but Jane doesn't make a move to knock again. Shang does it instead.

"Come in."

Jane starts. Maybe she expected Vikke to inform them of Mulan changing locations instead. Shang knows he did.

Shang opens the door and walks to the side of the room, giving Jane space to enter and shut the door behind her.

All three of them take a moment to examine each other.

Mulan is out of costume, which is odd considering the image the new Elites have been going for. There are light bags under her eyes as if she hasn't been sleeping, and there's a distinct note of finality to her posture. Shang wonders if that finality is in regards to them.

"Hey," Mulan says. She walks to her bed and sits near the head so she can rest her back against the wall.

Shang nods in acknowledgement.

Jane taps a finger on one of her hilts. "You didn't avoid us this time. I thought you would."

Mulan winces. "Sorry. I've just been . . . putting off the inevitable."

Shang tilts his head, but it's Jane who responds.

"The inevitable? What do you mean?"

Mulan shrugs with one shoulder and glances at the wall closest to her. "I was given permission to tell you guys some Elite level secrets, but there's a catch that I'm not fond of. I was trying to find a work around before I confronted you two."

Shang examines Mulan's body language. "You didn't find one," he says. It's not a question.

"Yes and no," Mulan hedges. "No, I didn't find a loophole. Yes, I did find a way around it. It just involves doing everything Calhoun and Anna told me not to do." She closes her eyes. "I don't think they'll react well if I do that. They didn't when Crossroads inquired about having a more open policy on information."

"It feels odd calling Golden Flower a different name," Jane comments. "Was it this weird when I changed my name?"

That isn't the most important thing to focus on, in Shang's opinion, but he keeps quiet, just in case he missed a social cue.

A small smile curls Mulan's lips, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Yeah. It was weird. I tried not calling you by name at first, just in case the wrong hero name came out."

"I like Justice more than Tarzan, though," Shang says, instead of redirecting the conversation like he wants to. "It fits you more. Maybe the same will apply to Crossroads, after we get used to it."

"I think it already fits her," Mulan says. "But that may be because I like the message behind it. Standing in the middle of a road and having to choose which path to take, knowing you can't take it back."

A soft hum fills the silence. Jane, maybe. Shang doesn't care. He's thinking, trying to put the pieces together with full knowledge that he doesn't have all the pieces. This, at least, is a specialty of his. Might as well make use of it.

"So you're debating between following orders and doing what your gut or heart tells you to do," Shang states. "The consequence is dire if you disobey, but you want to do it anyway. Why?"

Mulan scowls. "Because Anna's plan is _stupid_. I mean, I get it. Really, I do. I know what she's trying to achieve and fuck me, I believe in her and her endgame, but I think she's making a horrible mistake in her approach."

Jane holds up a hand. "Wait, Anna? What about Calhoun? I thought she was in charge of the Elites."

Mulan shakes her head. "She is, I guess, but it's more of an unequal partnership between her and Anna, with Anna at the head."

"How does that make sense?" Jane asks. "Anna isn't even a hero. She just got her powers."

Mulan purses her lips. "It'd be more accurate to say she got _new_ powers. She's had powers for a long time, and she's stronger than us. It's one of the reasons the old Elites had her around."

Shang thinks back to the first time he met Anna and the way Athena reacted. He frowns. "Hades and Athena didn't want us to know about Anna, either." His eyes widen. "Oh my god." The few pieces he has fall into place, and it feels like he's been punched in the gut.

Anna's familiarity with Elite protocols. The strict policy she has with information. The fact that she knows the identities, personalities, and personal details about the old Elites _and_ their enemies. The way Athena had reacted, way back then, to Mulan and Shang seeing Anna's face. God, even Anna's _hair colour_ , for crying out loud. It just _makes sense_ , and if he's right then he's as blind as a fucking bat.

Jane frowns and looks his way. "What happened?"

Shang ignores the question and focuses on Mulan. "Does Anna have fire powers?"

Jane's jaw slacks. Mulan huffs a sigh through her nose.

"Yeah," Mulan airs. "She does."

It takes Shang two seconds to let the full implication of that sink in. It takes Jane six.

"What?" Jane airs. Then louder, angrier, " _What?_ "

Mulan furrows her eyebrows but she doesn't reply.

"Is this what that bitch didn't want you to tell us?" Jane snarls. "She didn't want us to know she's fucking _Arson?_ "

"No. I mean, yes, she is Arson, but no to keeping you in the dark," Mulan says. "She gave me permission to tell you who she is. But you have to know, her entire plan surrounding this revelation, of her being Arson, revolved around the assumption that neither of you would take the news well."

Jane scowls. "No shit." She whips on Shang and points at him. "I need to tell the others. Stay here and get more details." She tries to open the door, but it's locked. She tries once more with the same result. "Shadow," she growls.

"Vikke is under orders to keep us confined until we finish talking about this, and probably until you calm down afterwards," Mulan says. Her features are drawn in concern. "It's not because I don't want the others to know, it's just that Anna wants to tell the others personally. If you take that away from her, well, she already threatened to leave the League again."

"Let her," Jane snarls. "We don't need her. She abandoned us once. Let her do it again."

"If she leaves, Calhoun and Poseidon will leave with her," Mulan says. "They already pledged their allegiance."

Shang's heart plummets into his stomach. Ariel is the only hero the League has that can take on Arson solo and actually hold her own. He doesn't know as much about Calhoun to know how powerful she is, but if she was made an Elite back in the day he has to assume she's just as capable as they were. If those two join with Arson and turn against the League . . . Shang doesn't even want to imagine it.

Jane freezes. "That would—" She cuts herself off and turns around. "What does she have on them?"

"No dirt. Just loyalty," Mulan says. "Anna and Calhoun have history, as bitter as the last couple years have been. As for Anna and Poseidon, well, that one is really Poseidon's story to tell, and it's a doozie. Made me feel like an absolute asshole when I found out."

Jane crosses her arms over her chest. "I bet you anything a part or all of her problems are Arson's fault."

"If that's the case, you lose the bet and you owe me ice cream," Mulan says.

Jane frowns. "That's not— no, I don't believe that. _Everyone_ on this planet was affected by Arson."

"And Poseidon isn't from Earth," Mulan states. Shang wishes he could be more surprised about hearing that, but Arson's identity overshadows it. "In fact, she only got to Earth a mere day or two before she inquired about joining the League." She drums her fingers on her thighs. "So no. Arson has nothing to do with her history."

Jane unfolds her arms and throws them in the air. "The old Elites went planet hopping all the time. There's no telling whether or not they interfered with hers."

"Tridum is well outside the Milky Way galaxy," Mulan says, "and Arson has never left our galaxy. The only two who have are Athena and Hades, but they stopped soon after Arson was officially announced as a new member."

"If you're getting this from the records, then I don't believe you," Jane says. "Calhoun had complete control over the system until a week ago and Anna, fucking _Anna_ , has been wandering around tampering with things since she arrived." Mulan opens her mouth to answer but Jane holds up a halting hand. "If you're about to tell me you know otherwise because of Anna's word or security footage, _don't_. Neither of those are reliable in these circumstances."

Mulan frowns, but she closes her mouth.

Jane scoffs. "That's what I thought."

Shang glances between the two women. He doesn't know how to contribute without getting on the bad side of one of his friends, but this is big. And Jane isn't handling it well.

"I don't get it," Shang says, meeting Mulan's gaze. "I know you harbored doubts about Arson's allegiances but, as far as my memories show, you've never shown any intent on siding with her. Despite any good intentions she's still responsible for _millions_ of deaths, and I know that broke your faith in her, if only a little. Now this. You believing in her _and_ her goals. What changed?"

Mulan drops her sight to her hands and picks dirt off her pants. "Anna and Calhoun explained everything, and what they didn't cover was available in the records. So I know a lot of things now, including the full extent of what the first Incident cost Anna, even the rape-y details I didn't want to know about." A fraction of colour drains from her face. "It put things in perspective—"

"Are you defending Anna's rape tendencies?" Jane seethes. "Because I'm _pretty sure_ we have a mutual friend in this League who was—"

"What? No. Shut up," Mulan snaps. "You're coming to all the wrong conclusions."

Jane laughs, bitter and angry. "Oh, I'm sorry, do you mean I _didn't_ see Arson sexually abuse Zeus right before my fucking eyes? Because—"

"I'm not talking about Zeus, or anyone Red Arson raped!" Mulan shouts. "And yes, I'm saying _Red Arson_ because she and Arson are two completely different people, and you _know_ that but you aren't _acknowledging_ it."

Shang raises a hand before Jane can snap back a retort. "If you aren't talking about the people Red Arson assaulted, then what are the 'rape-y' details you mentioned?"

Mulan closes her eyes. "I don't think she'd want me to tell you."

Jane bristles. "Too fucking bad. She doesn't have a right to be picky."

Shang stops himself from reminding his teammate that Anna may not have the _right_ to be picky, but she is in a position that _allows_ her to be. He knows saying so would only make this situation worse.

Mulan opens her eyes to stare at the ceiling. "Look, I'll tell if you really want to know, but if I do it'll change something. Not with Anna," she clarifies, "but with you. Please don't say 'yes, tell me' right away. Take a second to think about it. This isn't a decision to be made lightly. I wasn't kidding when I said I wish I didn't know, but now that I do, forgetting isn't an option."

Concern spreads over Jane's expression. "That depends. Are these details the reason you turned to Arson's side?"

Mulan shakes her head. "I already believed in her to an extent before finding out, but after I learned . . . yeah, I guess it solidified my belief in her. Or maybe it made me realize that there are bigger monsters to fry than Arson."

"That's ominous," Shang comments, and he almost winces at his tone of voice. Way to make it obvious he isn't eager to learn about something that makes Arson relatable. "Also makes me wonder why you want to disobey her instructions involving this conversation if you have so much faith in her."

Mulan's scowl from earlier comes back in full force. "Just because I agree with where she's going doesn't mean I like the path she's taking. She's just— fuck, I don't know. Maybe it's old Elite policy mixing with working with villains, but she doesn't trust any of you to handle information properly."

"Trust," Jane deadpans. "That's rich, coming from her."

"She has a right to have trust issues," Mulan says. "And yes, I said _right_. You both know Anna has PTSD, yes?"

"'Oh no, I murdered my friends!'" Jane mocks in a high pitch voice. "'That gives me the right to feel bad!'"

"God _damn_ it, Justice," Mulan sighs. "You have no idea what she's been through, and yet—"

"She has several decades of torture memories stuck in her brain," Jane says, changing attitude so fast it almost gives Shang whiplash. "I get it. Changed her personality worse than it changed Blizzard's parents. But Arson had the fortune of having that side of her suppressed, and she still turned into a villain."

Mulan clenches her teeth. "The _personality_ that came with the memories was suppressed, _not_ the memories. She can tell they aren't real now because they're a little hazy or they don't make sense, but she still has them and she can still recall them whenever she wants."

"Boohoo," Jane deadpans.

"She was a fucking hero, just like Hades!" Mulan roars. "And they _both_ got captured, and they _both_ got turned, and if Arson hadn't won we would be facing _him_ right now and I'm pretty fucking sure Earth would be a goddamn _graveyard_ if that was the case. So stop pinning blame until you know the whole story."

"You can't tell us the whole story!" Jane bellows. "You already said it, Arson won't let you!"

Mulan's neck and cheeks are flushed, her eyes angrier than Shang's ever seen them. He steps between the two to calm the situation down, but Jane shoves him out of the way.

"I want to tell you everything," Mulan stresses. "I want to break the rules and let you in because I thought you could handle this, but I can't if you're like this. Please, _please_ don't let Anna be right about you. _Please_."

Jane scowls. "That's a low blow, even for you."

Mulan purses her lips and balls her hands into fists. "Do you want to know why Arson didn't come back to the League?"

Jane blinks and takes a step back. Shang steps forward in her place. "Are you saying she wanted to come back?" he asks.

"Yeah, she did," Mulan says. "I'm going to be telling you that thing I wanted you to think on, because I think it's the only thing that can punch through that stubborn shield Jane has around her brain."

Somehow Mulan makes that sound like a threat, and Shang feels his stomach sink. Just how bad is it?

Jane sneers. "We didn't ask to hear it."

"I don't care," Mulan says, calm despite her earlier outburst. "So a few days into the first Incident, Anna gets just enough influence on Red to urge her to go to someone capable of helping. The people she went to were not only capable of suppressing her split personality, they were also people she loved and trusted with her life. Maybe the only people left in her life she could say that for, since the old Elites were dead."

 _Oh no_ , Shang thinks, letting his eyes slip shut. He can see where this is going, and he reaffirms his feelings from before; he doesn't want to know.

Mulan stares Jane dead in the eye. "She came straight here afterwards. I'm sure you remember. She was delusional, saying things that didn't make sense. She had a sweater around her waist, even though it wasn't fire proof. Remember? It started catching fire a little as she fought. Arson made sure to pat out the flames before they got too big. Ever wonder why?"

Jane scowls, but there's a distinct uncomfortable tinge to it now. "It's just a sweater. It doesn't matter."

Shang opens his eyes to look at Jane out of the corner of his vision. He wonders if she figured this story out for herself and she's deflecting, or if she's just refusing to understand.

"The lower back and ass of her costume were ripped out," Mulan continues. "So she could be branded and raped by the two of them. It wasn't fast, and they didn't stop at one time. The best part? They suppressed Red Arson before they did it, so that any sane part _Anna_ had left snapped."

Shang feels sick to his stomach and he sits in a nearby chair. It creaks under the weight of his armour and, for a second, he thinks it will break under the pressure. Then he realizes that possible break is inside himself.

Jane crosses her arms over her chest and squeezes, a mix between intimidation and self comfort. "Why do I get the feeling you're leaving something out?" She almost sounds hopeful, as if what Mulan isn't saying is better than what she is. Shang has the feeling the reality is the opposite.

"Ah, you noticed," Mulan says. "Well, the truth is, that brand on Anna's back was a reaper seal. So it was slowly killing her as her assailants, well, assaulted her." She looks at Shang, then Jane, then sighs. "By this point, Hades was dead. That doesn't leave many options for who the culprit could be."

Jane pales. "You— you're not seriously suggesting Reaper did this, are you?"

"I am," Mulan says.

Jane's hands start shaking. "And you're saying he had help."

Mulan nods, but she doesn't answer. She doesn't need to.

 _Archangel and Reaper_ , Shang thinks, and it feels as if a part of his soul has been crushed underfoot. "What— but— no, they're heroes, aren't they?" _Now who's denying reality?_ he asks himself.

"Heroes," Jane echoes, but there's less conviction in her voice now.

"If you call that being a hero, then I'm not sure what you'd call us," Mulan says. She doesn't push the subject anymore. Shang knows she'll drop the topic if he and Jane want to, but how can they ignore this?

"No. This is just— no, no, no, _no_. Fuck. _Fuck!_ " Jane shouts.

"I agree," Shang says. "This is . . . it's a little hard to believe."

Mulan hums. "It is," she says, but from her tone of voice it _isn't_ unbelievable to her. Shang wonders if she knows something that he doesn't.

Jane grits her teeth and glares at the floor. "You can't expect us to take Arson's side over Archangel and Reaper," she says. "Their reputation alone is incomparable even to the old Elites. The amount of good deeds they've done—"

"Will never overshadow the horrors Reaper inflicted before he changed sides," Mulan interrupts. "Archangel was the only one who was always a hero, but even the greatest heroes can be monsters."

"Okay, fine," Jane relents. "I get it. Reaper makes sense, because of his history, but I have a hell of a time accepting Archangel is capable of that."

Mulan's gaze flicks aside. "I admit, I didn't quite believe it either until I watched a clip of her outright admitting it to Anna and Crossroads."

Shang snaps his head to Mulan. " _What?_ " He sounds so aghast he startles himself. When was the last time he felt like this? When Mulan announced she was stepping down as leader? That hadn't been easy to believe, either.

"Mm, yeah," Mulan hums. She looks distracted. "If I remember right, that was the encounter that made Crossroads change her hero name."

"Wait," Jane says, "that means this admission happened recently."

"Yeah. Same day Anna summoned Athena's spear," Mulan says. "Anna called Archangel in because she's the only person Anna knew who could explain what happened. Anna brought Crossroads along with her as a buffer, just in case Archangel tried anything." She tilts her head. "You can probably listen to part of it, actually. Vikke, can you play the audio file of Archangel admitting to sexual assault?"

Jane holds up a hand. "Don't. We don't know what Archangel sounds like. We'd have no reason to believe it's her."

"Cut a section of dialogue before or after it that features Crossroads or Anna instead," Mulan corrects. "Whatever you think Justice and General can relate to."

"No, just don't," Jane says. "I get it. Fuck, I get it."

"No, you don't," Mulan stresses. "A violent alien race turned Anna into Red Arson, then Archangel and Reaper shattered whatever sanity she had left. Arson had every right to go on a rampage, but she didn't. She decided to help us. And I can't honestly say any of us would have made the same choice in her position." Mulan leans back into the wall. "Arson is a better person than I could ever dream to be, and I hate, I fucking _hate_ that Archangel and Reaper made her believe that she was better off being a villain."

Jane steps back until her armour clanks against the wall and she slides to the floor. "I—" Her voice cracks. She clears her throat and tries again. "No. It shouldn't be this easy to blame them. It took far longer for me to accept Arson turned rogue. I can't— I just can't accept this without proof."

"I offered you proof," Mulan states.

"But I don't want to see it, or hear it!" Jane cries. She grabs at her heart over her armour. "We lost the old Elites. We lost Arson. We lost _every_ prominent hero on Earth because of the first Incident except for _her_. Reaper can go fuck himself for all I care, but Archangel— don't let me lose her, too."

A pained expression twists Mulan's features. "I— yeah. Sure."

Shang pulls off his helm and buries his face in his free hand. The cold metal still feels warmer than his insides. Neither he nor Jane speak, and Mulan doesn't bother defending her position any further. Shang's happy for the silence. It means he has time to think without being bombarded with information so nauseating he has to fight to keep the bile down.

But the more Shang thinks about it, the worse it gets. It means Archangel and Reaper are not only responsible for why Arson turned villain, but also for screwing over the League, _hard_. Reaper was the one who threatened Calhoun to keep quiet about Arson, no doubt with Archangel's permission. Keeping that silence meant Calhoun couldn't promote any of the leaguers to Elite or give them access to Elite level information. They created the situation that fucked over the League sideways and backwards for the past four years.

"If this is true," Shang says, his voice shaking, "that means everything that happened in the past couple years is their fault. The fault of heroes to top all heroes."

"If they were so heroic then they would have saved Hades and Arson before the Ambassadors could fuck them up," Mulan murmurs. She's picking at her pants again. "But I suppose it's on par with their latter actions. If they didn't care enough to save their son, why would they save their future daughter-in-law?"

Jane shakes her head so violently Shang thinks her helm is going to fall off. "Wait, wait, _what?_ " she blurts. "She was—" Her eyes widen and she turns to Shang. "She was engaged to a woman. What was her name?"

Shang isn't sure why Jane would ask the person with arguably the worst memory, but he doesn't say that. "I'm going to take a not-so-wild guess and say Athena."

Jane flings out her arms. "Obviously Athena, but what about her _civilian_ name? We know this. We've heard it. We know Athena's real fucking name!"

Shang raises his face from his armoured palm to give Jane a look. How did she go from denial to excitement so quick? "We may have heard it, but neither of us appear to remember. It makes sense. It didn't matter at the time." He doesn't say it aloud, but he's also been using some memories of Anna from way back then as sacrificial pawns and suspects that memory might already be gone. He mentally marks the remainder of his memories of Anna as 'keep'.

"Jennifer," Mulan supplies. "But I'd appreciate it if you kept that between us for now, like the rest of this conversation. I'd rather not get Anna riled up if I don't have to, and she's rather sensitive about her relationship with the old Elites. With good reason."

Jane _thunk_ s her plumed helm against the wall behind her. "Fu-u-u-uck," she utters. "I just realized. That means the Ambassadors made Anna murder her future wife and brother-in-law."

No one mentions what happened with her future parents-in-law, but it hangs in the air with an oppressive weight.

"Yeah," Mulan sighs. "The Ambassadors really hit her where it hurts."

Jane growls. "God, I'm going to kill those fucking goats. Then I'm going to kill Archangel and Reaper, because _fuck them_." She hesitates. "Well, maybe not Archangel. I just— I can't accept that just yet."

A small smile curls Mulan's lips, but there's a sad tinge to it. "Well, that means you're mostly on the same page as the rest of the Elites. That's good. It means I can talk with Anna to see if there's any way she'd be willing to promote you two before she gets murdered."

Shang's muscles jolt despite himself and he snaps his gaze to Mulan. "You're still going through with that? She's a villain, I get that, but you were right when you said she's been a saint compared to how she could have turned out. Death is a little extreme now that you know what she's been through, right?" He looks to Jane for her thoughts, but she doesn't react. He half wonders if Jane still thinks Arson should die. It wouldn't surprise him if she did.

Mulan frowns. "It's wouldn't be my first plan, or even my tenth, but Anna's set on it. She has something of a death wish, and now that Calhoun's back in the game she's tapping out."

Jane purses her lips. "She must love irony, to live when we want her dead and plan to die when we want her alive." Her face twists. "Kind of."

"The irony doesn't stop with her, I can assure you," Mulan says, and she looks like she aged a year with just that sentence alone.

Jane purses her lips. "Like with us? The three of us."

"Yeah," Mulan airs. She runs her fingers through her hair. "God, I want you guys to be Elites with me. It would make this so much easier."

Shang offers Mulan a wan smile. "Talk to Anna like you were going to. That's all you can do, right?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Then do that," Shang says. "And maybe pray."

Mulan laughs. "Yeah, sure, I'll do that."

"Shadow," Vikke says from the hidden speakers in the room, "There has been an update to Gatekeeper Alpha Alpha's profile, courtesy of Allure. It is accessible to all League members. Crossroads would also like to inform you that Allure is blackout drunk on Juon, and she should be brought to her room."

Mulan's eyebrows creep up her forehead. "What the hell is Juon?"

"Potent alien alcohol," Vikke replies.

Mulan frowns. "That's . . . right, okay. I didn't know we had that." Vikke doesn't reply. Mulan stands. "I'll go get her. Where is she?"

Jane stands with her. "I'll go with you."

Mulan smiles. "I'd like that."

Jane grabs a cloth from the chair beside her and throws it over. "Might want to wear that."

"Allure is in the living area," Vikke says.

Mulan shrugs and throws the cloth on her bed. "Don't need it. Sandman knows our names and what we look like."

"Uuh," Shang utters, "I think you're forgetting about Executioner's Axe and her dragon."

Mulan's eyes widen. "Fuck. That's right." She frowns and grabs her actual mask from one of her end tables. "Hell of a thing to forget."

Jane flashes Mulan a teasing grin. "Some great leadership, boss. I knew I could trust you to keep all the details straight."

"Hey, it didn't sound like you remembered either," Shang chuckles, taking silent pride that he was the sole person who kept that detail in mind.

"I'm just a mere grunt in the face of Elite greatness," Jane jests with a mocking bow. "Lead me, oh great one, on a mission where everyone definitely knows who's in the building."

Mulan finishes putting on her mask and shoves Jane's head aside. "I'm so glad we're on good terms again," she drones. "I forgot how much I missed your companionship."

Shang smiles and puts his helm back on. When they exit into the hallway, Shang shoves a thumb over his shoulder. "I'm going to go this way. You two have fun."

Mulan throws a hand over her heart. "You traitor. How dare you leave me alone with her."

Jane throws an arm over Mulan's shoulder and starts leading her down the hall. "Consider it punishment for avoiding us. You fucking dick." She points an accusing finger in Mulan's face. "And no shadowing away. You have to walk like a normal person."

Shang smiles and heads in the other direction. He has nothing he needs to do, but he wants to give Jane and Mulan space to talk. He wants to speak with Mulan, as well, but he knows Jane needs it more. She didn't take the conversation nearly as well as he did, and he still feels as if there's a hole in his chest.

He touches his armour over his heart. _Archangel and Reaper_ , he thinks, and just lets their names tumble around in his brain. Does he believe what Mulan claims? He trusts her, sure, but does he trust the information she's been given?

 _Damn it. I should have asked to hear the proof_. But there's nothing Shang can do about it now. At least not until Mulan and Jane are done dealing with each other and Esmeralda. He wonders if Mulan will even have the time to humour him after all that's said and done. As far as he can tell, the new Elites are like chickens running around with their heads cut off.

"Mm, like I said. She didn't know anything important."

Shang's heart stutters and he stops dead in his tracks. He looks further up the hall and sees Elsa in full costume talking with Anna. He knew he recognized Anna's voice.

Elsa sighs. "Fuck. I was hoping she'd give us a lead."

"Yeah, I know," Anna says. "I can give you one instead, though, because talking to Sandman gave me an idea. Look for transmissions that are going off world. I have a feeling that the Ambassadors are using Earth citizens to do their dirty work. They're sweet talkers, so I'm sure they could've convinced anyone that working with them is the golden ticket, despite the illegal shit they're doing. If so, that might include communication trails we can track."

Elsa hums. "I'm willing to try it. Think the Elites could spare Decryption to help us out?"

Anna frowns. "Maybe. It depends on what she's working on or if she's making progress. I'll ask Calhoun. I might be able to arrange for Decryption to work with you part-time, but that depends on whether she thinks she can manage working two projects at once."

"That's—" Elsa cuts herself off with a sigh. "Better than nothing, I suppose."

Anna reaches out and lays a hand on Elsa's shoulder. "The Elites may have a different primary focus, but they want to know what happened to your parents as much as you do. If the risk of Ambassador involvement is as high as I think it is, I'm sure the Elites will cooperate as much as they're able."

"If that chance is as high as them actually talking to us, I won't get my hopes up," Elsa grunts.

Anna has the decency to wince. "They're a little understaffed for the scale of things they're dealing with."

Elsa takes Anna's hand from her shoulder and holds it in both of hers. "Then convince Calhoun to make us Elites, too. We can help."

The bitter taste of irony spills over Shang's tongue. Elsa doesn't know what she's asking for, or that she's addressing the issue with the worst person. Anna created this dynamic, and if Mulan was telling the truth, Anna isn't keen on breaking it.

A lull in conversation has Shang refocusing, and he's shocked to find Anna staring right at him. An urge to confront her takes over his body and he walks up to the pair of them, staring Anna straight in the eye. "Justice and I just finished speaking to Shadow."

Anna's expression warps with an emotion Shang can't place, before going back to the way it was a moment later.

"I see," Anna says. Her eyes zone out for a second, and then she's focusing on Elsa. "I'll talk to Calhoun and get back to you. Would it be possible to talk to you again tomorrow morning?"

Shang tilts his head. So Anna _is_ planning on telling the other leaguers the truth about her after all. Maybe. He might want to clarify that with her later.

Elsa blinks, her eyes shining with surprise. "That quick?"

"Don't get too excited," Anna says. "I'm pretty sure I'm just going to be asking you questions and explaining a couple things, and then bringing all that back for Calhoun to assess."

Shang wonders how much of that sentence is the truth.

Elsa bobs her head in a hesitant nod. "It's a chance though, right?"

Anna smiles, but there's strain in it. "It is," she says. She's staring at her hand, still engulfed in Elsa's. "For Crossroad's sake," she whispers, "I hope it goes well." She withdraws her hand with some reluctance and waves for Shang to follow her as she walks away. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, Blizzard."

"Uh, yeah, sure," Elsa says. She gives Shang an odd look as he passes her, but she doesn't ask questions. She probably will after he's done talking with Anna. He should prepare for that.

Anna opens a door to a small conference room and gestures for Shang to enter first. He hesitates. Is this really a good idea, talking one-on-one with Arson?

Anna raises an eyebrow. "I assumed you wanted to speak with me about what you discussed with Shadow. Was I wrong to think that?"

"No, you're right," Shang says. _You might as well go in. She already knows you know_ , he thinks, and enters the room.

Anna shuts the door behind them and types something into the security panel beside the door. "Just so you know," she says, "I'm locking this room to prevent anyone from entering in the middle of the conversation."

Shang winces. He isn't sure what he expected. He was locked in the room with Mulan during their conversation. Maybe it's different now because he's locked in with Arson. "Sure," he manages to say.

Anna turns round and takes a seat in the closest chair. "So? Questions, concerns?"

Shang takes a seat on the other side of the table, even though that small barrier can't save him if Anna decides to fight him. "It was a lot to absorb. I'm having a hard time believing any of it."

"That's fair," Anna says. When Shang doesn't continue, she sighs through her nose and interlaces her fingers on the table. "Look, I don't know what Shadow told you specifically, so I can't prompt you without risking revealing classified information. If you—"

"Was it true what she said about Archangel and Reaper?" Shang almost punches himself. That wasn't how he wanted to start this off.

Anna pales to the point of turning green. "I— what did she tell you about them?" Panic blossoms in her eyes for a split second before she rushes on to say, "Actually, no, don't tell me. I don't— no. I don't want to talk about that."

A sinking feeling settles in Shang's gut. "Shit, they did do that to you, didn't they?"

Anna's nostrils flare. "I'm going to have a long talk with Shadow about this if you're referring to what I think you are."

Shang takes the hint and backs off. "Please don't blame her," he says. "After she told us who you are Justice stopped listening to reason. Shadow was intent on _making_ her see reason, and I guess in her mind that was the best way of doing it."

Anna gives Shang an odd look, and Shang realizes his mistake too late. Mulan said all of Anna's plans had revolved around the idea that he and Jane took the new information poorly. Is it possible Anna was counting on it?

"Interesting," Anna says. She doesn't elaborate.

Shang shifts uncomfortably. He tries to think of how to proceed without sticking his foot in his mouth.

"I'll admit," Anna says before Shang can think of anything, "you're taking this a lot better than I thought you would. Assuming Shadow told you exactly who I am?"

"Yeah. Arson," Shang says.

"Then like I said, remarkably well," Anna asserts. "Most people yell, or throw things, or try to kill me. Decryption threw scalpels at me when she found out."

Shang smiles at the imagery. "Maybe you shouldn't have told her when she had sharp items on hand."

Anna chuckles. "Wasn't my choice. Shadow wanted her there, and I was bedridden so I couldn't exactly say no. Well, actually I did but she told me to go fuck myself. So when Crossroads finally came to patch me up she noticed the mark on my back and all three of them found out who I was at the same time."

Shang's eyebrows raise. "If you were bedridden, you're lucky they didn't lynch you."

"They tried," Anna admits. "Shadow stopped them, even though she looked ready to punch my face in."

"She never did lose faith in you," Shang muses.

"I think she did at some point," Anna hedges, "but I saved her life once as a villain, and I don't think she could forget that in good conscience."

Shang takes a moment to examine Anna. "You look confused by that."

"Mm, maybe," Anna allows. "It's just, out of everyone in the League, I would have thought the Juniors would have been the least likely to have my back. I took everything from you, and when you tried to help me when I came back to base I fought you tooth and nail."

"You were under the influence of the false memories," Shang says. At least now he knows why Arson's rants at the time had made no sense.

"You didn't know that. All you guys knew is that I killed the other Elites, with Hades' death being public, then I beat the snot out of you guys and went villain. It didn't help that Scar turned around the same time."

"It was enough for me and Justice," Shang says. "I suspect it would have been enough for Shadow, too, if it hadn't been for Hades' general contingency message. You know how close she was to him." The mention of contingency messages jogs Shang's memory, but Anna is speaking before he can voice it.

"Yeah, I remember. I teased Hades about it sometimes." Anna smiles. "He was a big grump hidden under layers of sarcasm, but he had a soft spot for Shadow. Once I told him he had a thing for underaged women like his sister and he beat me so bad I legit thought I was going to die. Come to think of it, Athena didn't find that joke very funny, either."

There's a soft tone in Anna's voice as she recalls the event, and it almost hurts Shang to bring her out of it.

"If you cared about the old Elites as much as you claim, why didn't you watch their contingency messages?"

Anna's smile fades and her jaw muscles bulge. She refuses to look at Shang. "Dunno," she says. "At first it was too painful and I didn't felt like I deserved it. Then time made it harder to face it, and it didn't help that I never recovered emotionally." Her lip twitches. "It must just sound like excuses to you."

"There's a lot about you I don't know," Shang says, "and I don't think it would do either of us any good if I make assumptions before knowing the whole truth."

Anna goes stock still for a moment, and then she frowns. "Did Shadow tell you to be diplomatic?"

Shang quirks a half smile. "All she told me to do was keep my mouth shut, so I'm pretty sure having us meet so soon after our conversation wasn't on her agenda."

Anna hums. "That's fair." She taps her interlaced hands on the table. "So, uh, I basically just waited so long to watch them that it was just easier to keep putting it off. Then I got dragged back here and, to put it simply, Poseidon forced me to start accepting what happened. Or at least gave me a healthy kick in that direction. I even watched Athena's contingency message with her." Her lips curl into a wary smile. "Haven't worked up the courage to watch the other ones yet. Or maybe I'm trying to convince myself I'm too busy to make the time. I'm not sure."

Shang tilts his head. "Or maybe you're scared of watching them alone."

Anna winces, and Shang half wonders if he went too far.

"I won't deny that," Anna says, but her voice is stiffer now.

"I can watch one with you, if you'd like," Shang says, and immediately regrets it because of the look Anna gives him. He raises his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, that's not my place and you have no reason to trust me."

Anna doesn't respond. She just keeps staring at him with a look so intense Shang's half worried she's thinking about killing him.

"You're right," Anna says. "It's not your place and I don't trust your intentions."

Shang's heart sinks.

"But I'll do it anyway."

Shang blinks. "Wait, what?"

Anna shrugs and swivels her chair to face one end of the room. "You're right. I won't watch them by myself, and the new Elites are too sensitive about my situation in all the shit that's been happening to bring it up. So if I don't accept your offer, I doubt I'll get around to this for some time. Vikke, make a screen on the wall I'm facing and show a menu of the personal contingency messages I haven't watched yet." The AI does. Anna waves to it. "Go ahead. Pick one."

 _This is crazy_ , Shang thinks, but he still looks at the screen with the list of alphabetical Elites. Arson, Bear, Black Dragon, and Hades'.

"I'll see the face of the Elite I choose," Shang says, and he almost hates himself for bringing it up. "Are you okay with that?"

"Shadow deemed it fitting to tell you about the two fuckwads who ruined my life," Anna deadpans. "I don't see how this is any worse than that."

Shang frowns. "Uh, right. Good point." He thinks. He doesn't know enough about Elite secrets to make an educated decision. "Hades, I guess." Mulan might very well kill him knowing that he gets to see this message instead of her.

Anna nods. "Okay. We'll watch that one." She narrows her eyes at Shang. "But if you fucking laugh at me when I cry, I will rip your fucking dick off and force you to forget that memory so you can get it back. Understand?"

Shang's muscles tense for battle, but he forces himself to relax. He reminds himself that Anna is exposing a part of herself to him despite not trusting him. Of course she's going to want to ensure her emotional safety.

"Understood and accepted," Shang says. Anna's eyes flash with momentary surprise, and then she's all business again.

"Alright. Vikke, play Hades' message. Don't pause, halt, or turn it off no matter what I say."

Shang thinks it's telling that Anna only put that clause in for herself and not him.

The screen switches from the list of names to Hades in full costume, sitting in the middle of a room. He's tapping his index finger against his leg. " _Anna, Anna, Anna_ ," he murmurs. He hesitates for a moment, then pulls the metal band off his forehead. The misty haze of his features dissipates, and Shang's breath catches in his throat.

Hades, for being such a renowned hero, isn't a classical charming type. It looks like he hasn't shaved in a couple days and he doesn't have a chiseled jawline. His hair is cut short with a distinct style, but it looks like he just rolled out of bed and ran his hands through it. In honesty, the only thing that makes him different from the sea of average men is the intensity of his green eyes.

" _This recording is taking place before our intel mission in the Ambassador fleet_ ," Hades states, his gaze zoning into the distance. " _We all knew this was going to be dangerous, that's why we're recording these silly things, yeah? I mean, it's not like you'll ever need to watc_ —"

" _James_ ," Calhoun reprimands in the video, " _please take this seriously_."

 _James_ , Shang thinks with smile. Who would have thought Athena and Hades would have such common names? It humanizes them, in a way.

James sighs and rests his cheek on his knuckles. " _Right_ ," he airs, staring into the camera. For a full five seconds that's all he does. Then, with stark bluntness that takes Shang off guard, he says, " _If this is playing, I'm dead and you're not. I don't know how I died, or by whom, or if I went out alone or if some of the others were dragged along with me. Was it me who did it, or someone else? If someone else, was it a villain, an uncategorized meta, a good guy, or one of us?_

" _The truth is, it doesn't matter_ ," he says with a yawn. " _I'm dead no matter the circumstances and I'm not coming back, no matter what my parents claim. Unless they're claiming I'm not actually dead and this message was played prematurely, in which case please find me and stop sobbing. You always look like a stabbed puppy when you tear up and it drives me fucking_ nuts _because Jennifer gets all, 'Wah, Anna! What's wrong?_ Stop fucking around and help me James. _Anna is_ crying.' _Seriously, every time_ ," James insists. " _Then she figured out that it's easier to give me a_ look, _and I can't very well ignore it or she'll kick my ass_."

Anna chuckles, soft and subdued, but she doesn't comment. Shang looks at her for a second, taking in the pain in her eyes, before looking back at the screen.

" _What was I talking about? Oh, right_ ," James continues. " _In the case that I'm actually dead, then . . . deal with it. I don't care if Maleficent did it_ —"

 _Maleficent?_ Shang wonders.

"— _or Elinor, or Jennifer, or me_ —"

 _The names of the old Elites_ , Shang realizes with a start. Then he frowns. Elinor? Why does that sound so familiar?

"— _or_ you _if hell somehow freezes over. Deal with it. No matter who did it, you know the situation better than me so fuck it, do whatever_ ," James says, waving a flippant hand. " _Just be sure, and I mean_ sure," he stresses, " _that what you do doesn't make you as bad or worse than the bastard that did me in_."

Shang glances at Anna just in time to see her face fall.

" _I don't want you turning out like me or Maleficent_ ," James admits with a weary smile. " _We're both better now, but we're the same inside. Cold, pessimistic, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. You don't deserve to live like that, no matter how annoying you can be and trust me, you can be_ very _annoying. But you've always had a joviality about you that made everything seem a little better than it was. My only request is that you don't lose that._ "

Anna cringes and her shoulders hitch around her ears. Again, she doesn't say anything, and Shang doesn't comment on it.

James runs his hands through his hair. " _But fuck, if you already have or you're on your way there with no way back, then just try not to turn into me. It might seem fun to be sarcastic and witty and handsome all the time, but it wears on you, and on the people around you._ " His smile fades. " _I never told you this_ ," he whispers, " _but before Jennifer met you, she and I were on shaky terms, to put it lightly. We worked together all the time and called ourselves Protectors, sure, but we fought more than we got along_.

" _That is, until you came into the picture_ ," James says, his eyes softening. " _You might have noticed the rift between us, even with Jennifer trying to shield you from our dynamics, because over time you just . . . made everything work. I'm not sure when or how it happened, but one day I woke up and Jennifer looked at me as a comrade instead of a crushed bug on the underside of her heel, and you looked at me like a friend worth having and_ —" His breath hitches and tears mist his eyes.

" _You gave me my sister back_ ," James says, his chest hiccupping. " _You gave Jennifer hope and love and the will to forgive me. You gave me purpose and drive and the ability to see that not everyone is inherently evil. You gave Elinor the strength to continue fighting for humanity instead of her own ends. You even gave Maleficent a better life, even though no one else thinks she deserves it_.

"You _are what made the Elites_ ," James stresses with an urgency to his tone. There are tears staining his cheeks. " _You kept us together, and guided us when we were down and I am_ so sorry _that I can no longer return the favour. You were better than the rest of us and you deserve more than a message from a dead meta, but I'm afraid this is all I can offer you. So please_ ," he begs, "please _take care of yourself, and don't let my death cripple you. You did everything you ever could for me, and I can never repay you for that_.

" _You've held up in trying situations and stood your ground on important issues that no one else thought mattered_ ," James says." _So you deserve to give yourself time if you need it. You don't need to prove anything to my memory because you've already made me proud. So just do whatever you need to do. The League will always be waiting for you once you're done_."

The image stills, and Shang realizes he was so invested in what was being said that he forgot to monitor Anna's reactions. He turns to her now and is greeted with the sight of her with her face buried in her hands and her back hiccupping with sobs so quiet he didn't even hear them until now.

Anna weeps louder now that the audio has cut off, and she digs her nails into her temple. "F-fuck," she stutters. "You f-fucking asshole. Y-you aren't s-supposed to be the emotional type."

It takes Shang a couple seconds to realize Anna isn't speaking to him, and he keeps his mouth shut.

Anna muffles a scream with the back of her throat, and it sounds so raw it makes Shang's chest hurt. "How dare you show me your feelings when I can't do anything about it. So fuck you. _Fuck you_. I love you, and I miss you, but _fuck you_ and your stupid fucking face."

Shang half wonders if Anna realizes he's still here, watching her. Would it be rude to just leave? He doesn't even know if he can. The door might still be locked.

After a second of debate Shang stands and walks around the table.

"If you were still alive, I would punch you right in the nose," Anna sobs. "Or, shit, maybe I would hug you and then punch you. Or maybe knee you in the dick. Or—" She hesitates when Shang lays a hand on her shoulder, and every one of her muscles lock up. Like she's waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"It's okay to be mad at someone you miss," Shang says. "It's okay to not be okay that they're not here anymore. It's okay."

Anna remains tense, but her body tilts just enough for one shoulder to lean into Shang's armour. Shang wraps both of his arms around her. She doesn't relax, and she goes back to the near-silent crying she was doing during the playback, but she lets him rub soothing circles on her shoulder.

They don't talk. And it's not perfect. And neither of them know to what extent they can trust one another, but it solidifies their unspoken ceasefire. Shang may be a hero, and Anna may be a villain, but what does that mean?

 _If you call monsters like them heroes_ , Shang thinks, vaguely recalling what Mulan said earlier, _then what does that make us?_ He stares down at Anna and watches her shoulders shake. He huffs a small sigh through his nose and shakes his head. He isn't sure he wants to know the answer to that.


End file.
